MYSTERIOUS STRANGER
Gale could never quite clearly remember her dash to the infirmary after
Doctor Norcot, but finally Phyllis was there, shut into a room with the
doctor and nurse and Gale and the Dean were in the corridor. Gale was
pacing up and down, the Dean watching her. It was dark outside and a
single light made a white circle on the tile floor and walls.
Gale stopped her pacing long enough to glare at the door to Phyllis’
room. She had a wild desire to throw it open and burst in.
“Be patient a little longer, Gale,” the Dean said compassionately. “You
can see her in a few minutes.”
“Why did it have to be her?” Gale asked in an agonized whisper. “She
suffered so much these past weeks after the hockey accident and now——
She did it saving us! We might have been crushed under that lumber.”
The door opened and the Doctor came out followed by a nurse.
“May I go in?” Gale asked.
The Doctor nodded wearily. “Be cheerful, make her smile but don’t let
her get excited or talk too much.”
“I’m so full of splinters I can’t even smile,” Phyllis said gloomily
when Gale was beside her. “You had better go get your dinner.”
“You aren’t going to get rid of me so easily,” Gale laughed.
Phyllis’ face was all scratched and she looked white and tired.
“Honestly, Phyl——” she began when she remembered the Doctor’s warning.
“This was a fine thing for you to do. Now I’ll be by myself in our room
tonight again. See that you are back tomorrow, young lady, or I shall
move in here with you. After all, I believe you did it so you wouldn’t
have to go to Biology class tomorrow. There is more than one way of
escaping an exam. Though I can’t say I would choose this way.”
“Don’t talk so much,” Phyllis said bluntly. “You don’t know a word you
are saying.”
Gale nodded soberly. “Right you are. I can’t think of a thing but the
way you pulled us out of danger this afternoon and now you——” She took
her friend’s hand. “I’ll make it up to you sometime, Phyl.”
“Go way,” Phyllis said tenderly. “Go get your dinner and study your old
Biology and come and see me tomorrow.”
Gale went out and found the Doctor and the Dean in conference in the
corridor.
“She seems to be all right,” Gale said.
“She has the courage of six girls,” the Doctor said firmly. “But, Miss
Howard, I am afraid your friend is right where she was five weeks ago.”
“You mean her leg——”
“Crushed under the lumber this afternoon,” the Doctor said. “Not too
badly crushed but enough to undo the healing of these past weeks.”
“Poor Phyllis!” Gale whispered.
“Do you think she would want to go home until she is well again?” the
Dean asked as she walked to the door with Gale.
Gale shook her head. “No,” she said decidedly. “Phyllis wouldn’t want to
go home.” Strange, perhaps, that she should choose to stay here, but
even the college infirmary was brighter, more cheerful than the house on
the hill to which Phyllis would have to go.
“Come and have your dinner with me,” the Dean invited.
“Thanks, no,” Gale said when they were on the campus. “I—I’d rather be
alone, thank you. I have to write Phyllis’ aunt again,” she sighed.
The Dean turned toward her office and Gale toward Happiness House. She
walked along, hands in her pockets, deep in thought until at last she
reached the sorority house. She met Adele Stevens and Ricky and conveyed
to them the news of Phyllis. After her dinner she went upstairs to study
but she found she could not concentrate.
Phyllis was on her mind. Alternated with thoughts of her friend were
remembrances of the conversation they had had with the Dean that
afternoon. She was completely at sea as to who could be doing the
mysterious things. Quite suddenly she sat erect before her desk and
stared with narrowed eyes at the wall opposite. That had been a goodly
pile of lumber this afternoon. It had been piled, perhaps a bit
precariously, but nevertheless it had not wavered until that moment
before it fell. Could it be—was it possible—that someone had pushed
it? The pile really had needed but a bit of pressure to send it over.
Who had exerted that bit of pressure?
At first Gale laughed at herself. It was a wild idea! No one would do
that! But the more she thought about it the more plausible it became.
She had thought no one would throw acid out the Chemistry Hall
window—but evidently someone had!
Then she remembered the note the Dean had had in her hand when the
lumber fell upon Phyllis. She had a fleeting vision of the same note
lying in the mud unheeded. Their one valuable clue gone!
Catching up her coat Gale switched out the light and stepped into the
hall. No one was in sight. She sped down the stairs and at the bottom
bumped into Adele Stevens.
“Where are you going, Gale?” the Senior asked. “It is study hour.”
“I know,” Gale said breathlessly. “I—I can’t study. I thought I’d go
for a short walk.”
“Thinking about Phyllis?” Adele said kindly. “All right, Gale. I suppose
you can tonight. Be back before lights-out bell.”
“I will,” Gale breathed and was gone before the sorority president could
change her mind.
The late autumn evening was clear and cold. The leafless branches of the
trees rubbed together making queer eerie noises. Windows of the
dormitory and sorority houses shone yellow with light. Gale stepped
along briskly. She passed the dormitory houses and halted before the
Chemistry Hall. There was a light burning in the third floor laboratory.
Was one of the Professors working late? Probably. She turned away into
the shadows behind the building.
It was terribly dark in here. She took the small flashlight from her
coat pocket and switched it on. She had been just about to stumble into
a mud puddle. Now she jumped across it and proceeded with caution. She
came to the scene of the afternoon. The lumber lay as it had fallen. In
her mind’s eye Gale could still see Phyllis lying there. She shivered
and turned away. Carefully she went over the ground. Caught under a
board, torn almost in half, Gale found the note. It was dirty and
wrinkled and torn but she carefully folded it in the original creases
and stored it in her coat pocket. She switched off her flashlight and
stood listening. Had she heard a sound?
The moon was completely hidden behind a cloud. The wind whistled in her
ears. She shivered in her warm coat. It wasn’t the cold, it was the
darkness, the shadowy world about her, and the knowledge of another’s
presence. She strained her ears to catch the faintest sound. There was a
sudden creak and a smothered exclamation as someone stumbled over a bit
of lumber. Gale crouched against half-piled boards and waited.
A man’s figure was outlined against the light from the moving clouds. A
hat pulled low on his forehead and a long overcoat with collar turned up
completely hid his identity. Gale considered jumping in front of him and
flashing her light in his face. She would know who he was then! But she
reconsidered the next moment, and waited to see what he was after. It
was obvious that he was searching for something. He crouched low to the
ground, examining every foot of space thoroughly with a small pocket
lamp. What could he be searching for? Could it be the note in her
pocket? Convulsively her hand closed about the muddy piece of paper. It
must be this! There was nothing else here. Gale took a step backward as
the figure moved closer. That was the fatal moment. She stumbled wildly
over something and fell. The clatter was distinct and as loud as a
cannon shot in the stillness. The man whirled. He flashed his light full
into Gale’s face. She blinked in the sudden glare and did not move. In
another second the light was gone and the figure had fled toward the
campus.
Gale scrambled to her feet but it was hopeless to think of pursuit. If
only she hadn’t fallen! Her clumsiness had spoiled everything! The man
was gone now and so was her chance of solving the mystery. She shook the
mud from her coat and picked her way back to the campus.
The light was gone from the Chemistry laboratory. A lot of windows in
the other dormitories were dark, too. It was growing late. Gale hastened
her steps. She had to be in before lights-out bell rang. She had
promised Adele, and not only that, she didn’t fancy being out late on
the campus with that mysterious stranger—the mystery man who knew her
identity but whom she did not know. He had her at a decided
disadvantage. He knew, now, who was spying on him and noting his
movements. She knew she must guard against someone, but whom? If only
she had discovered his identity! She rebuked herself again. She would
have given nearly all she possessed to know who else wanted the note.
When she returned to her room she examined the bit of paper more
closely. Through the dirt, after she had carefully pasted the torn parts
together, the brief typewritten message was still clearly legible. There
was nothing to distinguish this typewriting from any other except—the
letter R was slightly raised above the level of the other letters. That
might help a little in identifying the typewriter. If she found a
machine which had that little peculiarity it might lead to the
mysterious stranger.
She smiled to herself as she switched off her light and got into bed.
She would turn all the girls into Sherlock Holmeses seeking and trying
all the typewriters they could find.