TWENTY minutes later we set forth. But we had not reached the corner of
Harbor Street before we ran into Hattie May. She was walking fast and
her face was red. “Why, Hattie May,” I cried, “what is the matter? Your
dress is wrong side out!”
Hattie May looked vaguely down at the blue print frock she wore. “Well,
it’s no wonder!” she panted. “I dressed in such a hurry——”
“But what _is_ the matter?” Eve demanded. “Is it a fire or something?”
“It—it’s Hamish,” she cried, still struggling with her breath.
“He—he’s gone!”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“How do I know? If I knew, I wouldn’t be running round the streets like
this, would I?”
“Well do sit down on this horse block,” Eve suggested, “and tell us
what’s happened.”
Hattie sank gratefully down. “Well, all day yesterday,” she began,
“Hamish acted queer!”
“How d’you mean queer?” I inquired.
“Well as if he had something on his mind or—or was planning something.
I kept my eye on him all day because I was suspicious that he was up to
something. I didn’t let him out of my sight a single minute.”
“Poor Hamish!” I murmured.
She turned on me sharply. “Well I’ve got to look after him, haven’t I?
I promised mother. You don’t know what crazy things Hamish can do!”
“All right,” Eve soothed. “Go on, tell us what happened.”
“Well we went for a little ride after supper. I thought maybe that
would get him calmed down. But he wouldn’t go far, said he was sleepy
and was going to turn in early. But of course I see now that that was
just a blind—a trick to get me out of the way. If I’d had any sense,
I’d have suspected it at the time. Oh, I’ve been such a fool!” The last
word came out with something suspiciously like a sob.
“But I don’t see as you were to blame, Hattie May,” I said. “Do get on
and tell us the rest.”
“Why, that’s all! I went into his room this morning to call him for
breakfast and he simply wasn’t there! His—his bed hadn’t been slept in
at all!” she wailed.
“Gracious,” I exclaimed, “you mean he’d been gone all night!”
Hattie May nodded, her lips quivering ominously. “I—I w-went to the
place where he keeps his car and the man said he’d come back at half
past nine last night and taken it out again and—and they haven’t seen
him since. And now—oh, I don’t know what to do!”
“Why I wouldn’t be so upset, Hattie May,” Eve Said quietly. “I’m quite
sure Hamish is able to take care of himself, even if he does do queer
things. He’s not a bit stupid, you know. Tell me, haven’t you any
notion where he could have gone—didn’t he drop a hint even?”
“No. The only thing I can think of is that he went over to Millport to
try to get trace of that terrible villain who sold him the hair tonic.
Ever since he found out who he was at the picnic Saturday, he’s been
funny, like I told you.”
“Yes,” I said, “I remember he said he was going to get even with him.”
“Hamish’s like that,” said his sister. “He can’t bear to have anyone
put anything over on him. I guess maybe he’s got one of those superior
complexions or whatever you call it.”
“I don’t think his complexion is anything remarkable,” said Eve with a
giggle. Then she added seriously, “But honest, Hattie May, if he’s just
gone to Millport, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”
“Of course not,” I agreed. “Maybe he had a breakdown—I dare say he’ll
turn up any minute.”
“If it was a breakdown, he could have phoned me, couldn’t he? I tell
you he’s got mixed up with that awful barber creature somehow. You
can’t tell what may have happened with a man like that—a man that
wears a wig and—and digs up gardens! How do we know,” she went on
wildly, “what he dug that hole for—how do we know he wasn’t burying a
b-bloody weapon or—or one of his victims!”
“Oh, for heavens sake, pull yourself together, Hattie May,” I said with
some severity. I knew by experience that the best way to treat Hattie
May when she began to get hysterical was to scold. If you tried
sympathy and kind words, she just got worse.
“Yes,” chimed in Eve, “there’s simply no sense in your going on like
this. Nothing has happened to Hamish. I’d be willing to bet my best
embroidered slip on it. The thing for you to do is to come along with
us right now to Old Beecham to call on a friend of Aunt Cal’s. And by
the time you get back, you’ll very likely find Hamish eating his dinner
at the Inn—see if you don’t.” Hattie May wiped her eyes on her dress
skirt. “I c-can’t go c-calling in this dress,” she whimpered. “The
s-seams all show! I’d be the laughingstock of Millport.”
“Oh, nobody’s going to notice it,” I said. “All you have to do is to
act as if it was something new from Fifth Avenue! Come on, we’ll miss
the bus if we don’t hurry.”
She got up uncertainly. “You don’t think we ought to go to the Police
Station,” she faltered, “and report Hamish’s disappearance?”
“I don’t believe there is any,” I said. “Anyway there’ll be time enough
to find out if Hamish isn’t back by dinner time.”
“I feel all in,” said Hattie May as we hurried her down the street.
“It’s the shock, I suppose. You can’t think how I felt when I opened
Hamish’s door and saw his bed all smooth and empty. It was just like a
murder story. You know, when the valet goes to call his master and
finds——”
“Oh, cut it, Hattie May,” Eve ordered. “There’s the bus—we’d better
run!”
Fortunately for us the bus was late in leaving, owing to the fact that
one of the passengers was having an argument with the butcher across
the street. We continued to cheer Hattie May during the short ride to
The Corners. We decided that if Hamish wasn’t back when we returned, we
would get hold of Michael. He would know what to do and that would be
better than going to the police, because we did not want publicity.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Hattie May agreed tearfully. “I’d hate to have
anything get into the papers, mother’d be sure to hear of it.”
“Oh, it won’t come to that,” I returned with considerable more
confidence than I felt. For I realized as his sister had said that with
a boy like Hamish you never could tell what he might do. And I could
well imagine that Mr. Harry Bangs was not one to allow a boy of fifteen
with big ears and a nose for other people’s business to interfere with
his plans.
As the bus rolled away and we started on foot up the hill toward Old
Beecham, we told Hattie May of our plan to stop at Craven House on the
way back and take another look for the missing statue. Hattie May said
she didn’t think she ought to waste time hunting for lost goddesses
when her own brother was missing.
“She wasn’t a goddess,” I corrected, more for the sake of making talk
than anything else. “She was an enchantress who turned the companions
of Ulysses into swine by the wave of her wand.”
“Well, she must have been a very disagreeable person,” returned Hattie
May. “I’m sure I don’t see why anyone should want a statue of her
about!”
As we came abreast of the old house, Hattie May said she’d got to sit
down and rest for a minute. The road was deserted as usual. Beyond the
wall the old house seemed asleep. “To think that we almost spent a
night there,” I mused.
“I’ll bet you’d have seen a ghost if you had,” said Hattie May. “I
can’t think whatever induced you to go inside in the first place.”
“That was Eve’s curiosity,” I said. “Without curiosity, you know,
Hattie May, you never get anywhere.”
Eve said nothing. She was gazing intently at the road in front of where
we sat. “I didn’t know cars came out this way much,” she remarked at
last.
“They don’t,” I said. “That day on the roof we didn’t see a single one.
Michael said there was a better road the other side of the hill.”
“But look at those tracks there in the dust,” Eve said. “It looks as if
two or three cars had been out here recently.”
Hattie May was on her feet in a flash. “You’re dead right!” she cried.
“A car has turned around right in front of this house—see the double
tracks!”
She was right. There were marks of tires going in both directions
clearly discernible in the dry dust of the road.
“Maybe Hamish came out here!” Hattie May cried. “Maybe he went inside
the house and—and—” she cast terrified eyes beyond the wall.
“Hush, Hattie May, don’t be ridiculous. There aren’t any such things as
ghosts as you very well know. Besides,” I added illogically, “no one
ever heard of one’s harming a person.”
“But people die of fright,” Hattie May went on wildly. “Or—or they
fall in a swoon. I’m sure I should if I saw one and Hamish is a year
younger than me. Oh, Eve, would you dare to—to just go up to the house
and—listen?”
“Of course I would,” Eve assured her. “What is there to be afraid of?
I’d go inside only the door is locked of course. But honestly, I don’t
believe those tracks mean a thing—somebody just drove up, discovered
he was on the wrong road and turned around, that’s all.”
But Hattie May shook her head. “No. I feel that something has
happened,” she declared solemnly. “I’m as sure as anything that those
marks were made by Hamish’s car. And,” she flung up her head with a
heroic gesture, “it’s my duty not to leave this place till I’ve found
out—found out what there is to know!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------