An Unsatisfactory Test
Anne rolled over in bed and groaned.
“What did you say?” she murmured drowsily.
“Wake up, sleepy head,” Madge said, shaking her again. “I’ve had another
inspiration about the formula.”
At the word “formula” which was magic to her ears, Anne sat upright,
ready to listen.
“We’ve been hopeless duds trying to bring out the secret writing by
heating the pages of the book!” Madge declared.
“And you awakened me to tell me that? Of all the—”
“I’m not through. Remember, you said your Father knew a great deal about
secret inks and the like.”
“He was a government specialist,” Anne corrected; “He probably knew as
much about secret inks as any man in Washington.”
Madge nodded eagerly.
“Exactly. And here we’ve been working on the theory that he would use the
most simple means of hidden writing. Why, you can write with milk and
bring it out by heating the paper. Any school child knows that.”
“Father always had an aversion to the obvious thing too,” Anne declared,
catching her friend’s trend of thought. “He probably used the very latest
method of secret writing.”
“That’s the conclusion I reached,” Madge announced eagerly. “I’m willing
to wager that the formula is written in ‘Kim’ if only we can find the
right method of bringing it out!”
“I’m sure I don’t know the way,” Anne returned. “You can’t find that sort
of information in books either—that is, not the latest processes.”
“You don’t know anyone who might help us?”
“Clyde Wendell, if he would.”
“Let’s count him out. He wouldn’t help a blind man.”
“Then I fear—oh, wait! I just thought of a man who worked with Father in
the Washington bureau. He knows everything about codes and ciphers and
secret inks.”
“Can you reach him?”
“Why, I could write to Washington. I believe he’s still with the
government.”
“That would take ages,” Madge protested. “We must have quick action or
Mr. Brownell will leave. Why not telegraph?”
“I can,” Anne agreed instantly. “Why, where are you going?” she demanded
as Madge slid out of bed.
“I’m going back to the laboratory after ‘Kim.’ It would be just our luck
to have it stolen during the night. No use taking chances.”
Anne would not permit her to go alone so together they stole down the
dark hallway. The floor creaked beneath their feet and the light from the
lamp made weird shadows dance on the plaster walls.
To their relief they found the book where they had left it. For the
remainder of the night they slept with it under Anne’s pillow.
At the first sign of dawn they arose and dressed. They planned to go to
Luxlow as soon after breakfast as they could find means of transportation
and the question arose as to what should be done with the book.
“I don’t like to leave it here while we’re gone,” Anne said. “The house
has been entered once and we saw a prowler around at night. Why don’t you
take it back to the lodge?”
“I’d prefer not to have the responsibility.”
“Do keep it, Madge. I’ll not have a comfortable moment if we leave it
here.”
Unwillingly, Madge allowed herself to be persuaded. Shortly after eight
o’clock, they locked the house and crossed the lake to the Brady lodge.
Neither Mr. Brownell nor Clyde Wendell were abroad for they were late
risers. The girls went to Madge’s room for her coat and hat and while
there decided that for the time being “Kim” would be safe in the lower
bureau drawer. They covered the book with a layer of clothing.
“No one ever comes in here save Aunt Maude and she wouldn’t think of
disturbing anything,” Madge said.
How to get to Luxlow was the next problem for Mr. Brady had taken the car
away early that morning. However, learning that one of the rangers was
driving in, they received permission to ride with him. Madge rather
wished that Jack might have been the one to take them but he was busy
surveying a new road which the government intended to put through the
forest.
Enroute to town the girls busied themselves with the telegram they
intended to dispatch to the man in Washington. Anne had found his address
on an old envelope in her father’s files. It was not easy to explain what
they wanted to know in a few words without sounding utterly ridiculous.
After several trials, the message finally suited them. Arriving at
Luxlow, they sent it off and purchased supplies which Mrs. Brady had
requested. The last item on the list she had given Madge, read:
“magazines for Bill.”
“He always wants the cheapest kind,” she told Anne. “I have a notion to
take him a few high-brow ones for a change.”
“He’ll never forgive you if you do.”
They sought a street stand which displayed magazines of all type. With
considerable embarrassment they selected a half dozen of the melodramatic
sort and Madge actually blushed as she paid the salesgirl.
“The next time, Bill buys his own trash or he goes without!” she fumed.
“Did you see the pitying look that girl gave us? She thought we wanted
them for ourselves.”
They walked slowly down the street, Madge carrying the magazines so that
the jackets would not be noticed by the passersby. They were within sight
of the ranger’s parked automobile when Anne heard her name called. She
turned and saw Jake Curtis.
It was too late to retreat. They could only wait and face the music.
“I went out to Stewart Island last week to see you, Miss Fairaday,” the
man began in an unpleasant tone. “You were gone.”
“I must have been at the Brady lodge,” Anne replied uneasily. “Or perhaps
it was the day we went fishing. If I had known you were coming—”
“You’d have been away just the same!” the man finished harshly. “Well, I
warn you it will do you no good to try to avoid me. I mean business. The
mortgage must be paid by the first.”
“This isn’t the first,” Anne reminded him. “I have several days yet.”
“Not to sell the house, you haven’t. I’ll give you just twenty-four hours
to decide what you want to do. I’ll wipe off the mortgage and give you
five hundred dollars for the house and island. But the offer only holds
until tomorrow noon.”
“It’s robbery!” Anne protested.
“Take it or leave it,” he retorted, and turning, walked away.