A NEW "CASE" FOR BOBS
The outer office of the Fourth Avenue Branch of the Burns Detective
Agency was vacant when the girl entered, but almost instantly the door of
the inner office opened and Mr. Jewett himself stood there. His pleasant
face brightened when he saw his visitor. Advancing with his right hand
extended, he exclaimed: "Miss Vandergrift, I am almost surprised to see
you. I really feared that you had deserted your new profession."
"But--Mr. Jewett--I--that is--my name. I told you that it was Miss
Dolittle."
The young man drew forward a chair for her, then seated himself at his
desk, and again Roberta realized that, although his face was serious, his
gray-blue eyes were smiling.
"The letter I sent to you was addressed to Miss Roberta Vandergrift," he
said, "and, since you have replied in person, am I not justified in
believing that to be your real name?"
Bobs flushed. "I'll have to acknowledge that it is," she said, "but the
other day when you asked me my name, I didn't quite like to give that of
our family and so, at random, I chose one." Then the girl smiled frankly
at him. "I couldn't have chosen a worse one, it seems. Miss Dolittle did
not impress my late employer as being a good name for a clerk."
"You are wrong there," the young man told her, and at last there was no
mistaking the fact that he was amused. "Mr. Queerwitz decided that you
did too much and not too little. I don't know when I have been so pleased
as I was over the fact, which so disturbs him, that you were able to
drive the better bargain. Mr. Queerwitz has excelled in that line, and to
have a mere slip of a girl obtain one thousand dollars for a book, the
mate of which brought him but five hundred dollars, is humiliating to say
the least."
Then, leaning forward, the young man said, with evident interest: "Miss
Vandergrift, will you tell me what happened?"
Roberta's expression was sphynx-like. "I understand, Mr. Jewett," she
replied, "that one need not give incriminating evidence against oneself."
Then her eyes twinkled. "And what is more," she told him, "I don't
believe that it is necessary. This office seems to have ferreted out the
facts."
"You are right," the young man confessed, "and now I will tell you just
what happened. It seems that while you were out for lunch Mr. Queerwitz,
or one of his assistants, discovered that the rare book was missing. He
phoned me at once and reported that his head clerk believed that you had
taken the book. She had found you so absorbed in it earlier in the day
that you had not even been conscious of her presence.
"I assured Mr. Queerwitz that I believed he was on the wrong trail, but
he insisted that a detective be sent to watch your actions. This was
done, and that night the report delivered to this office was that you had
visited an old second-hand book shop on Third Avenue; that from there you
had mailed one book, and had then taken another to Mr. Van Loon, sold it,
and had delivered the money to the old bookseller.
"Our natural conclusion was that the stolen book was the one that you had
sold, but when Mr. Van Loon was reached by telephone, he stated that the
first of the volumes was the one that he had purchased for one thousand
dollars.
"We said nothing of all this to Mr. Queerwitz, as we wished to see if the
book that you had mailed was the one that had been taken from the antique
shop.
"It was not until the following noon that the book was delivered, and
almost immediately afterward Mr. Van Loon appeared and purchased it for
five hundred dollars during the absence of Mr. Queerwitz.
"We were then forced to conclude that the old bookseller on Third Avenue
had been the thief, and we sent at once to his shop to have him arrested,
only to discover that with his wife, Marlitta, he had sailed for Europe
at daybreak.
"However, our detective reported that Miss Dolittle was at the shop,
having all of the old books heaped upon a cart. Being truly puzzled by
the case, I decided to follow it up myself, which I did, reaching the
place in my closed car just as you were being driven away on the
book-laden truck. I followed, unobserved, and when you descended in front
of the Pensinger mansion, with which place I am familiar, I decided that
you lived there. To verify this I visited the grocer who has charge of
the place.
"I made a few purchases and then said casually to the grocer: 'I see the
old Pensinger mansion is occupied. People been there long?'
"Mr. Tenowitz, as I hoped, was garrulous and told me all he knew about
the three Vandergrift girls who had taken possession of the place. He
said the one answering to your description was called Roberta.
"Of course the grocer really knew little about you, but it was not hard
for a detective to learn much more about a family that, for generations,
has been so well known in New York. But there is one thing I do not
understand, and that is your evident interest in that old second-hand
dealer in books."
"I will tell you gladly," Roberta said, and she recounted the story from
the moment when she had caught a first glimpse of the spray of lilacs,
unconsciously telling him more than her words did of how touched her
heart was by the poverty and sorrow that she was seeing for the first
time.
When she paused, he looked thoughtfully out of the window. "I don't know
that I ought to permit you to continue in this line of work," he said. "A
girl brought up as you have been can know nothing, really, of the dangers
that lurk everywhere in this great city."
"Oh, Mr. Jewett!" Bobs was eager, "please let me try just once more;
then, if I fail again I will endeavor to find a profession for which I am
better fitted."
"Very well, I will," was the smiling reply, "for this case cannot lead
you into places that might be unwise for you to visit. In fact, I am sure
that it is a case that will greatly interest a young girl."
Mr. Jewett paused to take a note book from his pocket. While he was
scanning the pages Roberta leaned forward, waiting, almost breathlessly
eager.
Mr. Jewett, glancing up from his note book, smiled to see Bobs' eager,
interested expression. Then he told her about the case. "A certain Mrs.
Waring-Winston, who is prominent in society, has a daughter who, although
brought up in a convent, is determined to go upon the stage. Her mother
has tried every form of persuasion to prevent this unfortunate step, and
at last she decided that a year of travel in Europe might have the
desired effect, and so she engaged passage upon a steamer which is to
sail next week.
"Mrs. Waring-Winston believed that if she could interest the girl in
other things just now, on their return to this country she might entirely
abandon her determination to become a chorus girl. The mother assured me
that Winnie, her daughter, is not talented enough to advance beyond that
point.
"But the girl, it would seem, has more determination and self-will than
she has talent, for when her mother informed her of the plans she had
made, although outwardly seeming to acquiesce, she was inwardly
rebellious as her subsequent actions proved, for that night she
disappeared.
"Three days have passed and she has not returned. Mrs. Waring-Winston did
not report the matter at once, believing that Winnie must have gone to
stay with girl friends in the suburbs; but yesterday, having inquired at
all possible places where her daughter might visit without having found a
trace of her whereabouts, Mrs. Waring-Winston, in desperation, appealed
to us, imploring us forever to keep the matter secret. We, of course,
agreed to do this, and it was then that I determined to send for you,
believing that a young girl could find Winnie sooner than one of our
men."
"Do you think, Mr. Jewett, that the daughter of Mrs. Waring-Winston has
joined a theatrical troupe in this city?" Bobs inquired.
"I think that it is more possible that she has joined a troupe that
either has or soon will leave town to tour the country, but of course we
must first visit the playhouses in the city. I have two other women
working on the case, as I wish if possible to cover all of the theaters
today. I have assigned to you a group of Broadway playhouses that you can
easily visit during the matinee performances. Here is a photograph of the
missing girl."
Roberta looked at the pictured face. "How lovely she is!" was her
comment. "I do not wonder that her mother wants to protect her. How I do
hope that I will be able to find Winnie and persuade her to wait, at
least, until she is eighteen years of age before choosing a profession."
The girl rose. "It is one-thirty," she said. "Perhaps I had better be
starting. Do I have to have a pass or something of that sort in order to
be admitted to the theaters?"
Mr. Jewett also rose and pinned a badge under the lapel of the girl's
jacket. "Show that," he told her, "and it will be all the pass that you
will need."
Then as he held open the door, he smilingly added, "Good luck to you,
Miss Dolittle Vandergrift."
Bobs flashed a merry smile back at the young man. "I sincerely hope that
I will do more than I did last time," she said, but, when she was seated
in the taxi which was to take her to her destination on Broadway, her
thoughts were not of the little would-be actress, but of Gwendolyn. Day
after day Roberta had noted that, try as she might to be cheerful, her
oldest sister, the one who had been Mother to them all, grew sadder and
more troubled.
"Glow will not be really happy," Bobs was thinking, "until Gwen comes
back to us. I cannot see where she can be, for she had only one month's
allowance with her and she could not live long on that."
Bobs' reverie was suddenly interrupted by the stopping of the taxi, and,
looking up, the girl found that they were in front of one of the
festively adorned theaters. With a rapidly beating heart, she descended
to the walk, made her way through the throng, showed her badge and was
admitted. At her request an usher led her behind the scenes.
Bobs felt as though she were on the brink of some momentous discovery.