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[Illustration: _"You hold the flashlight, Jane," said Mary Louise.
"While I make the slit."_
(Page 91) (THE MYSTERY AT DARK CEDARS)]
The Mary Lou Series
THE MYSTERY AT DARK CEDARS
by
EDITH LAVELL
A. L. Burt Company
Publishers
New York Chicago
The Mary Lou Series
by
EDITH LAVELL
The Mystery at Dark Cedars
The Mystery of the Fires
The Mystery of the Secret Band
Copyright, 1935, by
A. L. Burt Company
Printed in the United States of America
_To My Daughter_
Jeanne Marie Lavell
_Who loves mystery stories_
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The House of Mystery 11
II. The Robbery 26
III. Suspects 41
IV. Interviewing Hannah 52
V. The Stolen Treasure 63
VI. A Wild Ride 76
VII. "Hands Up!" 90
VIII. A Confession 101
IX. The Fifty-Dollar Bill 114
X. Night at Dark Cedars 126
XI. The Picnic 142
XII. Bound and Gagged 156
XIII. Detective Work 168
XIV. Bad News 181
XV. An Alibi 193
XVI. Spreading the Net 204
XVII. The Empty House 215
XVIII. Found! 228
XIX. Conclusion 243
_Characters_
Mary Louise Gay a girl detective.
Jane Patterson her chum.
Miss Mattie Grant spinster at Dark Cedars.
Elsie Grant orphan, niece of Miss Grant, living at Dark Cedars.
Mrs. Grace Grant sister-in-law to Miss Grant.
family of Mrs. Grace Grant.
John Grant middle-aged bachelor
Harry Grant younger bachelor
Ellen Grant Pearson married daughter
Corinne Pearson granddaughter, girl of nineteen
Hannah and William Groben servants at Dark Cedars.
Mr. Gay, Mrs. Gay, Joseph (Freckles) Gay family of Mary Louise.
Max Miller, Norman Wilder, Hope Dorsey, Bernice Tracey friends of
Mary Louise.
Mrs. Abraham Lincoln Jones a colored woman.
Mira a gypsy fortune teller.
Silky Mary Louise's dog.
CHAPTER I
_The House of Mystery_
"Be quiet, Silky! What's the matter with you? You don't usually bark like
common dogs over nothing!"
The brown spaniel stopped under a maple tree and wagged his tail
forlornly, looking pleadingly into his mistress's eyes, as if he were
trying to tell her that he wasn't just making a fuss over nothing.
Mary Louise Gay stooped over and patted his head. She was a pretty girl
of sixteen, with dark hair and lovely brown eyes and long lashes that
would make an actress envious.
"I see what Silky means!" cried her companion, Jane Patterson who lived
next door to Mary Louise and was her inseparable chum. "Look, Mary Lou!
Up in the tree. A kitten!"
Both girls gazed up at the leafy branches overhead and spied a tiny black
kitten crying piteously. It had climbed up and couldn't get down.
"I'll get it," said Mary Louise.
She swung herself lightly to the lowest branch, chinned herself, and
climbed the tree. In another minute she had rescued the kitten with her
hands.
"Stretch on your tiptoes, Jane," she called to her chum, "and see if I
can hand it down to you."
The other girl, who was much shorter and stockier than Mary Louise, did
as she was told, but the distance was too great.
"I suppose I'll have to climb down with her in one hand," concluded Mary
Louise. "That's not so easy."
"Drop her over to that branch you swung up by, and I'll get her from
there," suggested Jane.
A moment later Mary Louise was at her chum's side, stroking the little
black kitten, now purring contentedly in Jane's arms.
"I wonder whose it is," she remarked. "There isn't any house near----"
"Except old Miss Grant's."
Both girls turned and looked at the hill which rose at the right of the
lonely road on which they had been walking. The house, a large drab
plaster building, was barely visible through the dark cedars that
surrounded it on all sides. A high, thick hedge, taller than an
average-sized man, gave the place an even greater aspect of gloominess
and seclusion.
"Maybe it is Miss Grant's kitten," suggested Jane. "Old maids are
supposed to like cats, you know."
Mary Louise's brown eyes sparkled with anticipation.
"I hope it is!" she exclaimed. "And then we'll get a look at the inside
of that house. Because everybody says it's supposed to be haunted. Our
colored laundress's little girl was walking past it one evening about
dusk, and she heard the most terrible moan. She claims that two eyes,
without any head or body, looked out through the hedge at her. She
dropped her bundle and ran as fast as she could for home."
"You don't really believe there is anything, do you, Mary Lou?"
"I don't know. There must be something queer about it."
"Maybe there's a crazy woman shut up in the tower."
"You've been reading _Jane Eyre_, haven't you, Jane? But there isn't any
tower on the Grant house."
"Well, I guess Miss Grant is crazy enough herself. She dresses in styles
of forty years ago. Did you ever see her?"
"Yes, I've had a glimpse of her once or twice when I walked past here.
She looks like the picture of the old maid on the old-maid cards. It must
be awful for that girl who lives with her."
"What girl?" inquired Jane.
"A niece, I believe. She must be about our age. Her father and mother
both died, so she has to live with Miss Grant. They say the old lady
treats her terribly--much worse than the two old servants she keeps."
While this conversation was going on, the two girls, followed by Silky,
were walking slowly up the hill towards the big hedge which surrounded
the Grant place. Once inside the yard, it was almost like being in a
deep, thick woods. Cedar trees completely enclosed the house and grew
thick on both sides of the narrow path leading from the gate to the
porch. In spite of the fact that it was broad daylight, Jane found
herself shuddering. But Mary Louise seemed delighted with the strange,
gloomy atmosphere.
"Doesn't this girl go to high school?" asked Jane. "If she's about our
age----"
"I don't believe so. I never saw her there."
They stopped when they reached the steps of the porch and looked about
with curiosity. It certainly was a run-down place. Boards were broken in
the steps, and pieces of plaster had crumbled from the outer wall. The
grayish-colored ivy which grew over the house seemed to emphasize its
aspect of the past.
"Isn't Miss Grant supposed to be rich?" whispered Jane incredulously. "It
doesn't look like it!"
"They say she's a miser. Hoards every cent she can get." Mary Louise
smiled. "I believe I'll tell Daddy to report her for hoarding. She
deserves it!"
"Better wait and find out whether she really is rich, hadn't you?"
returned Jane. "Your father's a busy man."
Mary Louise nodded and looked at her dog.
"You lie down, Silky," she commanded, "and wait here for us. Miss Grant
probably wouldn't like you. She might think you'd hurt Pussy." She smiled
indulgently. "She doesn't know you belong to the Dog Scouts and do a kind
act every day--like rescuing cats in distress!"
The spaniel obeyed, and the two girls mounted the rickety steps of the
porch. Although it was late in June, the door was closed tightly, and
they had to pull a rusty knocker to let the people inside know that they
were there.
It was some minutes before there was any reply.
A sad-faced girl in an old-fashioned purple calico dress finally opened
the door and stared at them with big gray eyes. The length of her dress,
the way her blond hair was pulled back and pinned into a tight knot, made
her seem much older than her visitors.
A suggestion of a smile crossed her face at the sight of the girls'
pleasant faces, and for a second she looked almost pretty.
"Is this your kitten?" asked Mary Louise. "We rescued it from a tree down
the road."
The girl nodded.
"Yes. It belongs to my aunt Mattie. Come in, and I'll call her."
The girls stepped into the dark square hall and looked about them. The
inside of the house was even more forbidding than the outside. The
ceilings were high and the wall paper dark. All the shutters were drawn,
as if there were poison in the June sunlight. For no reason at all that
they could see, the old stairs suddenly creaked.
Jane shuddered visibly, and the girl in the purple dress smiled.
"Don't mind the queer noises," she said. "Nothing ever happens in
daytime."
"Then something does happen after dark?" questioned Mary Louise eagerly.
"Oh, yes. Why, only two nights ago----"
"What's this? What's this?" demanded the sharp, high voice of an old
woman. "What are you standing there talking about, Elsie? With all those
peaches waiting to be pared!"
All eyes turned naturally towards the old staircase, from which the sound
of the voice was coming. Miss Grant slowly descended, holding her hand on
her right side and grunting to herself as if the act of walking were
painful to her. She was a woman of at least sixty-five, thin and
wrinkled, but with little sharp black beady eyes that seemed to peer into
everything suspiciously, as if she believed the whole world evil. She was
wearing an old-fashioned black dress, and a dark shawl about her
shoulders.
"These girls have found your kitten, Aunt Mattie," Elsie informed her.
"They rescued her from a tree."
The black eyes softened, and the old woman came towards the girls.
"My precious little Puffy!" she exclaimed, as one might talk to a baby.
Then her tone abruptly became harsh again as she turned to her niece.
"Go back to your work, Elsie!" she ordered gruffly. "I'll attend to
this!"
Without any reply the girl slunk away to the kitchen, and Miss Grant took
the kitten from Jane.
"Tell me what happened to my poor little pet," she said.
Briefly Jane repeated the story, with an emphasis upon Mary Louise's
prowess in climbing trees.
Apparently the old lady was touched.
"I must say that was good of you," she remarked. "Not a bit like what
most young people nowadays would do! All they seem to enjoy is torturing
poor helpless creatures!"
She put the kitten down on the floor and turned towards the stairs.
"You wait!" she commanded the girls, "I'm going to get you a reward for
this!"
"Oh, no, Miss Grant!" they both protested instantly, and Mary Louise went
on to explain that they were Girl Scouts and never accepted money for
good turns. (Even Silky knows better than that, she added to herself. He
won't expect a bone for rescuing Pussy--only a pat on the head!)
"You really mean that?" demanded Miss Grant, in obvious relief. She would
save two cents! She had meant to give each girl a whole penny!
"Tell me your names, then," she continued, "and where you live. I might
want to call on you for help sometime. I can't trust my niece as far as
my nose, and my servants are both old." Mary Louise chuckled. So there
was a mystery in this house! A lurking danger that Miss Grant and her
niece both feared! And she and Jane were being drawn into it.
"Jane Patterson and Mary Louise Gay," she replied. "We live over in
Riverside, next to the high school. You can get us on the phone."
"I haven't a telephone. Too expensive. Besides, if I had one, I couldn't
tell what deviltry Elsie might be up to.... No, I don't hold with these
modern inventions."
"Well, you could send Elsie for us if you need any help," suggested Jane.
"It's only a little over a mile. You see, Mary Louise's father is a
detective on the police force, and we're both interested in mysteries."
"I'm not thinking of any mystery," snapped Miss Grant. "What I'm thinking
of is _facts_. One fact is that I've got a pack of scheming relations who
are trying to send me off to the hospital for an operation while they
loot my house."
Mary Louise's forehead wrinkled in surprise.
"I didn't know you had any relations besides your niece," she said.
"Certainly I have. Haven't you ever heard of the Grants in Riverside?
Mrs. Grace Grant--a woman about my age? She has two grown sons and a
married daughter. Well, they spent all their money, and now they want
mine. But they're not going to get it!"
Her hand went to her side again, as if she were in pain, and Mary Louise
decided it was time for them to go.
"Well, good-bye, Miss Grant," she said. "And don't forget to call on us
if you want help."
It was a relief to be out in the bright sunlight again, away from the
gloom and the decay of that ugly house. Mary Louise took a deep breath
and whistled for Silky. He was waiting at the foot of the porch steps.
As they walked down the path they were startled by a rustle in one of the
cedar trees. Silky perked up his ears and went to investigate the
disturbance. In another moment a head peered cautiously through the
branches. It was Elsie Grant.
"Will you come over here and talk to me a little while?" she whispered,
as if she were afraid of being caught. "I never see any girls my own
age--and--you look so nice!"
Both Mary Louise and Jane were touched by the loneliness of this poor
unhappy orphan. They went gladly to her side.
"Don't you go to school?" asked Mary Louise. "I mean--when it isn't
vacation time?"
The girl shook her head.
"That must be awful!" exclaimed Jane. "Sometimes I hate school, but I'd
certainly hate worse never to go. How old are you?"
"I'm only fifteen," replied Elsie. "But it seems as if I were fifty. I
mean--the time is so long. Yet I've really only lived here with Aunt
Mattie two years."
"And didn't you ever go to school?" questioned Mary Louise. She couldn't
believe that, for the girl spoke beautiful English.
"Oh, yes--before I came here. I was just ready to enter high school when
mother died--only a couple of months after my father was killed in an
accident. He was Aunt Mattie's youngest brother. And he didn't leave any
money, so I had to come and live with her."
"But I can't see why she doesn't send you to school," protested Jane.
"It's a public high school. It wouldn't cost her anything."
"Yes, it would, because I haven't any clothes except these old things of
hers. I can't go anywhere--I'm too ashamed."
Mary Louise's eyes gleamed with indignation.
"That's terrible!" she cried. "We can report her--"
Elsie shook her head.
"No, you couldn't. Because she feeds me well enough and gives me clothing
that is clean, and warm enough in winter. No, there isn't a thing anybody
can do. Except wait until I'm old enough to work in somebody's kitchen."
"No!" protested Jane.
"But I thought if I could just see you two girls once in a while and talk
to you, life wouldn't seem so bad. If I could call you by your first
names----"
"Of course you can," Mary Louise assured her, and she told Elsie their
names. "We'll come over often. And I don't believe your aunt will object,
because she seems to like us."
"She loves that kitten," explained Elsie. "It's the only thing in the
world she does love, besides money."
"She mentioned her money," remarked Jane, "and told us that she believed
her relatives were trying to get it away from her."
"By the way," said Mary Louise, "you started to tell us about something
that happened here two nights ago. Remember? What was it?"
Elsie shivered, as though the memory of it were still painful to her.
"I sleep up in the attic, all by myself. And I hear the most awful noises
all night. I'm always scared to death to go to bed."
"Don't the servants sleep there too?" asked Mary Louise. She was anxious
to get her facts straight from the beginning.
"No. They sleep on the second floor, in a room over the kitchen. There
are just two of them--an old married couple named Hannah and William
Groben.
"Well, night before last I heard more distinct noises than ever. First I
thought it was one of the trees near my window, and I nerved myself to
get out of bed and look out. And what do you think I saw?"
"A ghost?" whispered Jane, in awe.
"No, I don't think so. I believe it was a human being. Anyway, all I saw
was two bright eyes peering in at the window!"
"What did you do?" demanded Mary Louise breathlessly. "Scream?"
"No, I didn't. Once before I screamed, and Aunt Mattie had William
investigate everything, and when he found nobody I was punished for my
foolishness. I had to eat bread and water for two days. And it taught me
a lesson. I never screamed again."
"Then what happened?"
"I think whoever it was climbed from the tree into the attic storeroom
window and went through an old trunk in there. I heard a little noise,
but I couldn't tell whether it was only the wind or not. Anyway, nothing
was known about it till yesterday, when Aunt Mattie went up to look for
something in her trunk."
"Did you tell her then?"
"I tried to. But she wouldn't listen. She accused me of going through her
trunk. But I wasn't punished, because nothing was stolen."
"Then it couldn't have been a robber," said Mary Louise. "Or something
would have been taken. Wasn't there anything else in the house missing?"
"Not a thing! Hannah even counted the silver and found it was all there."
"How does Hannah account for it? Or does she think, like your aunt, that
you did it?" questioned Mary Louise.
"Hannah says it was 'spirits.' She says the spirits can't rest as long as
their old things are around. She wants Aunt Mattie to burn or give away
all the old clothing in the house. She says dead people's clothes are
possessed."
Jane let out a peal of laughter, but Mary Louise warned her to be quiet.
"We mustn't get Elsie into trouble," she explained.
"Was that the only time anything like that ever happened?" asked Jane.
"No. Once, earlier in the spring, when Hannah and William were away at
some lodge supper, their room was entered and searched. I was blamed and
punished then, though nothing was missing that time, either. But the
awful part of it is: I expect it to happen again every night. Every time
the wind howls or a branch beats against a windowpane, I'm sure they're
coming again--whoever they are. And--I'm afraid!"
"Something's got to be done!" announced Mary Louise, with determination.
"I'm not my father's daughter if I allow a mysterious outrage like this
to go on." She pressed Elsie's hand. "You can count on us," she
concluded. "We'll be back to see you tomorrow!"