_The Fifty-Dollar Bill_
The Pearsons' home, an attractive house of the English cottage type, was
half a mile from Mrs. Grant's, in the best residential section of
Riverside. Mary Louise, noticing Miss Grant's increasing weakness,
suggested a taxicab.
The old lady scorned such a proposal.
"Use your common sense, Mary Louise!" she commanded, in that brusque
manner which Jane so resented. "You know I've lost five hundred and fifty
dollars, and now you suggest that I throw money away on luxuries like
taxicabs!"
"I'll pay for it," offered the girl. "I have my purse with me."
"Fiddlesticks!"
The hot sun of the June day poured mercilessly down upon their heads as
they made their slow progress along the streets of Riverside, but Miss
Grant refused to give up, although it was evident that she was suffering
intensely. When they finally reached the porch of the Pearson home she
almost collapsed.
Corinne Pearson was sitting in the swing, idly smoking a cigarette when
the little party arrived. She was a blonde, about nineteen years of age,
pretty in an artificial way. Even her pose, alone on the porch, was
theatrical. She rose languidly as her great-aunt came up the steps.
"Mother's inside, Aunt Mattie," she said, ignoring the two girls
completely. "I'll go and tell her that you are here."
Miss Grant opened her eyes wide and looked sharply at Corinne.
"Don't trouble yourself!" she snapped, gasping for breath. "It's _you_ I
came to see, Corinne Pearson!"
The girl raised her delicately arched eyebrows.
"Really? Well, I am honored, Aunt Mattie." There was nothing in her
manner to indicate nervousness, and Mary Louise began to wonder whether
Harry Grant's story were really true.
"You won't be when I tell you why I'm here! Though of course you can
guess." Miss Grant paused and took a deep breath. "It's about that money
you stole from my safe!"
"What money?" The girl's indifference was admirable, if indeed she were
guilty, as Harry Grant claimed.
"You know. Eight hundred and fifty dollars in bills and five hundred in
gold pieces."
Corinne laughed in a nasty superior way.
"Really, Aunt Mattie, you are talking foolishly. I'm sorry if you have
been robbed, but it's just too absurd to connect me with it."
"Stop your posing and lying, Corinne Pearson!" cried the old lady in a
shrill voice. "I know all about everything. Harry Grant has confessed."
Mary Louise, watching the girl's face intently, thought that she saw her
wince. Anyway, the cigarette she was smoking dropped to the floor. But
her voice sounded controlled as she spoke to her great-aunt.
"Please don't scream like that, Aunt Mattie," she said. "The neighbors
will hear you. I think you had better come inside and see Mother."
"All right," agreed the old lady. Then, turning to the girls, she
requested them to help her get to her feet.
"I'll help you," offered Corinne. "These young girls can wait out here."
"No, they can't, either! They're coming right inside with me!"
Corinne shrugged her slim shoulders and opened the screen door. Her
mother, a stout woman of perhaps forty-five, was standing in the living
room, which opened directly on the porch.
"Why, Aunt Mattie!" she exclaimed. "This is a surprise. You must be
feeling better----"
"I'm a lot worse!" interrupted the old lady, sinking into a chair beside
the door. "Your daughter's the cause of it, too!"
"My daughter? How could Corinne be the cause of your bad health, Aunt
Mattie? You're talking foolishly."
"Don't speak to me like that, Ellen Grant Pearson! Your daughter
Corinne's a thief--and she stole my money, out of my safe. Night before
last, when she went upstairs to get that old lace dress of mine."
"Impossible!" protested Mrs. Pearson. "You didn't, did you, Corinne?"
"Certainly not," replied the girl. "I think Aunt Mattie's mind is
wandering, Mother. Send these girls home, and I'll call up Uncle John.
He'll come and drive Aunt Mattie back to Dark Cedars."
"You'll do nothing of the kind!" announced Miss Grant. "There's not a
thing the matter with my mind--it's my side and my breathing." She turned
to her two young friends. "Jane, you tell them all about everything that
has happened since I was robbed."
Jane nodded and again related the story, telling of their wild ride in
Harry Grant's car, the capture of the satchel with the bills in it, and
concluding with Harry's confession concerning Corinne's part in the
crime. Mrs. Pearson leaned forward in her chair, listening to the recital
with serious attention, but her daughter acted as if she were bored with
such nonsense and wandered about the room while Jane was talking,
rearranging the flowers on the tables and lighting herself a fresh
cigarette.
"It isn't true, is it, dear?" asked Mrs. Pearson eagerly.
Corinne laughed scornfully.
"It's just too absurd to contradict," she replied. "Uncle Harry made it
all up about me just to save his own face." She turned about and faced
her great-aunt. "You know yourself, Aunt Mattie, that if I had stolen
that money I wouldn't pay him four hundred dollars just to buy me some
clothes in New York. It's all out of proportion."
Miss Grant nodded: she could see the sense to that. A hundred dollars
would have been ample commission.
"May I say something?" put in Mary Louise meekly.
"Certainly," replied Miss Grant.
The girl felt herself trembling as all eyes in the room turned upon her.
But she spoke out bravely, disregarding Corinne's open scorn.
"I believe I can explain why Miss Pearson divided the money evenly with
Mr. Harry Grant," she said. "It was a clever trick, to throw the
suspicion on him. Because you know, Miss Grant, if you saw him drive home
with a new car, wouldn't you naturally jump to the conclusion that he had
bought it with your money?"
The old lady nodded her head: the idea sounded reasonable to her.
"And as for Miss Pearson's evening dress and cloak," continued Mary
Louise, "if she didn't buy them in Riverside, you'd probably never know
what she paid for them, or suspect them of being particularly expensive."
"That's true, Mary Louise," agreed Miss Grant. "I'd never dream anybody
would spend four hundred dollars for two pieces of finery."
Exasperated with the discussion, Corinne Pearson started towards the
stairway.
"I'm not going to listen to any more of this ridiculous babble!" she said
to her mother, with a scathing glance towards Mary Louise. "You'll have
to excuse me, Aunt Mattie," she added condescendingly. "I have a date."
"You stay right here!" commanded the old lady. "I'm not through with you.
You hand over that other fifty-dollar bill!"
Corinne shrugged her shoulders and looked imploringly at her mother, as
if to say, "Can't something be done with that crazy woman?"
Mrs. Pearson looked helpless: she didn't know how to get rid of her aunt.
The situation was apparently at a standstill. Corinne Pearson wouldn't
admit any part in the theft, and Miss Grant refused to allow her to go
off as if she were innocent. But Mary Louise, recalling Harry Grant's
explanation of the use to which Corinne had put that last fifty-dollar
bill, had a sudden inspiration. She stood up and faced Mrs. Pearson.
"May I use your telephone?" she asked quietly.
"Why, yes, certainly," was the reply. "Right there on the table."
Again all eyes in the room were turned upon Mary Louise as she searched
through the telephone book and gave a number to the operator. Everybody
waited, in absolute silence.
"Hello," said Mary Louise when the connection was made. "Is this the Bon
Ton Boot Shop? Yes? Can you tell me whether you took in a fifty-dollar
bill yesterday from any of your customers?"
It seemed to her that she could actually feel the tenseness of the
atmosphere in that room in the Pearsons' house while she waited for the
shop girl to return with the information she had asked for. Her eyes
turned towards Corinne to see how the question had affected her, but Mary
Louise could not see her face from where she was seated. In another
moment the voice at the other end of the wire summoned her thoughts back
to the phone. And the answer was in the affirmative!
"So you did take in a fifty-dollar bill?" Mary Louise repeated for the
benefit of her listeners. "Could you possibly read me the number engraved
on it?"
Her hand trembled as she fumbled for her little notebook in which the
notations were made, and Jane, guessing her intention, dashed across the
room to assist her. When the salesgirl finally read out the number on the
bill, Mary Louise was able to check it with the one marked "missing." It
was the identical bill!
"Will you keep it out of the bank for an hour or two--in case we want to
identify it--for a certain purpose?" she inquired. "My name is Mary
Louise Gay--Detective Gay's daughter.... Oh, thank you so much!"
She replaced the receiver and jumped up from the chair, squeezing Jane's
arm in delight. She noticed that Miss Grant's black eyes were beaming
upon her with admiration and that Mrs. Pearson's were shifting uneasily
about the room. Corinne was standing at the window with her back to the
other people.
Suddenly she burst into hysterical sobs. Wheeling about sharply, she
turned on Mary Louise like a cat that is ready to spit.
"You horrible girl!" she screamed. "You nasty, vile creature! What right
have you----"
"Hush, Corinne!" admonished Miss Grant. "Be quiet, or I'll send you
somewhere where you will be! Dry your eyes and sit down there in that
chair and tell us the truth. And throw that cigarette away!"
Frightened by her great-aunt's threat, the girl did as she was told.
"I suppose you won't believe me now when I tell you that I didn't take
any gold pieces," she whined. "But that's the solemn truth. I admit about
the bills----"
"Begin at the beginning," snapped Miss Grant.
"All right. It was night before last, when Mother and I walked over to
ask you for money for a dress. It means so much to me to look nice at the
dance on Saturday night----"
"I don't care what it means to you," interrupted the spinster. "Go ahead
with your story."
"Well, I thought it was pretty stingy of you not to help me out, Aunt
Mattie," continued Corinne. "But I never thought of taking the money till
I went up in your room."
"How did you get the safe open?"
"That's the queer part. _It was open!_ I thought you had forgotten to
close the door."
Miss Grant gasped in horror.
"I never forget. Besides, I saw that the lock had been picked. Somebody
did break it, if you didn't, Corinne."
"There wasn't a bit of gold there, Aunt Mattie. I'm willing to swear to
that!" Corinne looked straight into the old lady's black eyes, and Mary
Louise could see that her aunt believed her and was already trying to
figure out who else was guilty.
"No, you didn't have time to fiddle with a lock," she agreed. "I can
believe that.... I think I was right in the beginning: Elsie must have
stolen the box of gold pieces."
"Of course!" cried Corinne in relief. "That would explain it perfectly.
An ignorant child like her would want only the gold--that's why the paper
money and the bonds were untouched. Did you lose the bonds too, Aunt
Mattie?"
"No, they were still there. I put them in the bank today, with the eight
hundred dollars these girls got from Harry Grant.... Well, Corinne, you
did give your uncle Harry that money then?"
"Yes, I did. For the exact purpose he told you about."
Mary Louise sighed. They were right back where they started, with only
this difference: that while Elsie had been suspected of the theft of the
whole amount in the beginning, now she was thought to be guilty of
stealing only the gold. But stealing is stealing, no matter what the
amount, and Mary Louise was unhappy.
Miss Grant grasped hold of the arms of her chair and struggled to her
feet. She stood there motionless for a moment, holding her hand on her
side. The flush on her cheeks had disappeared; her face was now deathly
white. Both girls knew that she could never make that climb in the heat
to Dark Cedars.
"You won't do anything to Corinne, will you, Aunt Mattie?" pleaded Mrs.
Pearson fearfully.
"No--I guess not. Go get me--" Mary Louise expected her to ask for
aromatics, to prevent a fainting fit, but she was mistaken--"go get
me--my fifty dollars--what you have left of it, Corinne. You can owe----"
But she could not complete her sentence: she reeled, and would have
fallen to the floor had not Mary Louise sprung to her side at that very
second. As it was, Miss Grant fainted in the girl's arms.
Very gently Mary Louise laid her down on the davenport and turned to Mrs.
Pearson.
"Water, please," she requested. But it failed to revive the patient.
"I think she ought to go to the hospital, Mrs. Pearson," she said.
"There's something terribly wrong with her side."
Mrs. Pearson looked relieved: she had no desire to nurse a sick old lady
in her house, even though she was her aunt. She told Corinne to call for
an ambulance.
It was not until two white-uniformed attendants were actually putting her
on the stretcher that Miss Grant regained consciousness. Then she opened
her eyes and asked for Mary Louise.
"Come with me, child!" she begged. "I want you."
The girl nodded, and whispering a message for her mother to Jane, she
climbed into the ambulance and rode to the hospital with the queer old
spinster.