MARY LOUISE CALLS FOR HELP
All the queer hints dropped by the girl that afternoon, concerning the
relations between Mr. Joselyn and Mr. Cragg, were confided by Mary
Louise to her Gran'pa Jim that evening, while the old Colonel listened
with grave interest.
"I'm sure there is some mystery here," declared Mary Louise, "and maybe
we are going to discover some dreadful crime."
"And, on the contrary," returned Colonel Hathaway, "the two men may
have been interested together in some business venture that resulted
disastrously and led Mr. Joselyn to run away to escape his wife's
reproaches. I consider that a more logical solution of your mystery, my
dear."
"In that case," was her quick reply, "why is Mr. Cragg still writing
scores of letters and getting bags full of replies? I don't believe
that business deal--whatever it was--is ended, by any means. I think
that Ned Joselyn and Old Swallowtail are still carrying it on, one in
hiding and the other here--and to be here is to be in hiding, also. And
it isn't an honest business, Gran'pa Jim, or they wouldn't be so secret
about it."
The Colonel regarded his young granddaughter with surprise.
"You seem quite logical in your reasoning, my dear," he confessed,
"and, should your conjectures prove correct, these men are using the
mails for illegal purposes, for which crime the law imposes a severe
penalty. But consider, Mary Louise, is it our duty to trail criminals
and through our investigations bring them to punishment?"
Mary Louise took time to consider this question, as she had been
advised to do. When she replied she had settled the matter firmly in
her mind.
"We are part of the Government, Gran'pa Jim," she asserted. "If we
believe the Government is being wronged--which means the whole people
is being wronged--I think we ought to uphold the law and bring the
wrong-doer to justice."
"Allowing that," said her grandfather, "let us next consider what
grounds you have for your belief that wrong is being committed. Are
they not confined to mere suspicions? Suspicions aroused by the chatter
of a wild, ungoverned child? Often the amateur detective gets into
trouble through accusing the innocent. Law-abiding citizens should not
attempt to uncover all the wrongs that exist, or to right them. The
United States Government employs special officers for such duties."
Mary Louise was a bit nettled, failing to find at the moment any
argument to refute this statement. She was still convinced, however,
that the mystery was of grave importance and she believed it would be
intensely exciting to try to solve it. Gran'pa Jim was not acquainted
with Ingua Scammel and had not listened to the girl's unconscious
exposures; so, naturally, he couldn't feel just as Mary Louise did
about this matter. She tried to read, as her grandfather, considering
the conversation closed, was now doing. They sat together by the
lamplight in the cozy sitting room. But her thoughts constantly
reverted to "Old Swallowtail" and to Ingua. At length she laid down her
book and said:
"Gran'pa, would you mind if I invited Josie O'Gorman to come here and
make me a visit?"
He gave her a curious look, which, soon melted into an amused smile.
"Not at all, my dear. I like Josie. But I can see by your desire to
introduce a female detective on the scene that you cannot abandon your
suspicion of Mr. Cragg."
"I want to save Ingua, if I can," replied the girl earnestly. "The poor
little thing can't go on leading such a life without its ruining all
her future, even if her grandfather's brutal threats are mere bluff.
And Josie isn't a female detective, as yet; she is only training to be
one, because her father has won fame in that profession."
"Josie O'Gorman," said the Colonel, meditatively, "is a wonderfully
clever girl. I believe she is better, even now, than a score of average
male sleuths. Perhaps it will be a desirable thing for her to come
here, for she will be shrewd enough to decide, in a short time, whether
or not your suspicions are justified. In the latter case, you will be
relieved of your worries. Will you abide by Josie's decision?"
"Will you, Gran'pa Jim?"
"I have considerable confidence in the girl's judgment."
"Then I will write to her at once."
She went to her desk and wrote the following note:
Dear Josie:
We are at the dropping-off-place of the world, a stagnant little
village of a dozen houses set in an oasis that is surrounded by the
desert of civilization. And here, where life scarcely throbs, I've
scented a mystery that has powerfully impressed me and surely needs
untangling. It will be good practice for you, Josie, and so I want you
to pack up at once and come to us on a good long visit. We're
delightfully situated and, even if the mystery dissolves into thin air
under the sunshine of your eyes, I know you will enjoy the change and
our dreamy, happy existence in the wilds of nowhere. Gran'pa Jim wants
you, too, as he thinks your coming will do me good, and his judgment is
never at fault. So drop me a postal to say when you will arrive and I
will meet you at Chargrove Station with our car.
Affectionately your friend,
Mary Louise Burrows.
Gran'pa Jim read this note and approved it, so next morning Mary Louise
walked to the village and deposited it in the postoffice, which located
in the front room of Jim Bennett's little residence and was
delightfully primitive. Jim was "jus' makin' up the mail bag," he said,
so her letter was in time to catch the daily train and would be in
Washington, where Josie lived, in the quickest possible time.
Josie O'Gorman was about the same age as Mary Louise and she was the
only child of John O'Gorman, famed as one of the cleverest detectives
in the Secret Service. Josie was supposed to have inherited some of her
father's talent; at least her fond parent imagined so. After carefully
training the child almost from babyhood, O'Gorman had tested Josie's
ability on just one occasion, when she had amply justified her father's
faith in her. This test had thrown the girl into association with Mary
Louise and with Colonel Hathaway, both of whom greatly admired her
cleverness, her clear head and shrewd judgment. Mary Louise,
especially, had developed a friendship for the embryo girl detective
and had longed to know her more intimately. So she congratulated
herself on the happy thought of inviting Josie to Cragg's Crossing and
was delighted that the vague mystery surrounding the Cragg family
offered an adequate excuse to urge the girl to come to her. There
seemed nothing in the way of such a visit, for Officer O'Gorman,
however pleased he might be at his daughter's success in her first
detective case, declared Josie yet too young to enter active service
and insisted that she acquire further age and experience before he
would allow her to enter her chosen profession in earnest. "One
swallow," he said, "doesn't make a summer, and the next bird you fly
might prove a buzzard, my dear. Take your time, let your wits mature,
and you'll be the better for it in the end."
So Mary Louise waited impatiently for Josie's reply, meantime seeing as
much of Ingua as she could and trying to cement the growing friendship
between them. Ingua responded eagerly to her advances and as old Mr.
Cragg was away from home the greater part of the day there was much
crossing of the stepping-stones by both girls and more than one
"afternoon tea" in the pavilion.
"Do you know," said Ingua one day, in confidential mood, "I haven't had
the devils since that time I started to run away and you stopped me?
P'r'aps it's because I'm not as hungry as I used to be; but, anyhow,
I'm glad I stayed. Gran'dad's been good, too, 'though he's got the
'wakes' ag'in."
"What are the 'wakes'?" asked Mary Louise.
"Can't sleep nights. Goes t' bed on time, ye know, but gits up ag'in
an' dresses himself an' walks."
"In the house?"
"No, walks out o' doors. Sometimes he'll come in at jes' daylight;
sometimes not till break-fas' is ready."
"And doesn't that make him cross, Ingua?"
"Not a bit. It seems to chirk him up. Yist'day mornin', when he come
in, he was feelin' so chipper he give me a cent, an' told me to buy
somethin' useful. I guess that's the first cent he ever give me. I've
_took_ money o' his'n, but he never _give_ me none afore."
"Oh, Ingua! I hope you haven't stolen money?"
"Nope. Jes' took it. It ain't easy, 'cause he knows ev'ry cent he's
got, an' it ain't often he leaves it where I kin git it. P'r'aps he
knows it's me, but when I lie out of it he can't do noth'n' but growl--
an' growlin' don't hurt any."
Mary Louise was greatly distressed. This reckless disregard of property
rights was of course the direct result of the child's environment, but
must be corrected. Ingua resented direct chiding and it was necessary
to point out to her the wickedness of stealing in the gentlest possible
manner.
"How much money have you taken from your grandfather?" she asked.
"Oh, not much. A nickel, now an' then. He wouldn't stan' for losin' any
more, ye see. P'r'aps, altogether, I've swiped twenty-five cents. But
once Ned Joselyn give me a dollar, an' Ol' Swallertail knowed it, an'
made me give it to him to save for me. That were the last I ever saw o'
that dollar, Mary Louise, so I ain't even with Gran'dad yet."
"Do you think," remarked Mary Louise, "there is ever any excuse for
stealing?"
The girl stared at her, coloring slightly.
"Do ye mean Gran'dad, er _me?_"
"I mean you. He didn't steal your dollar, dear; he merely took it so
you wouldn't spend it foolishly."
"An' I merely took them nickels so's I could, spend 'em foolish.
There's no fun in spendin' money, seems to me, unless you squander it
reckless. That's what I done with them nickels. Candy an' chewin' gum
tastes better when you know it's swiped."
Mary Louise sighed. It was so hard to show little Ingua the error of
her ways.
"As fer stealin'--out an' out _stealin',"_ continued the girl, with a
proud toss of her head, "we Craggs ain't never took noth'n' that don't
belong to us from nobody. What a Cragg takes from a Cragg is a Cragg's
business, an' when we takes someth'n' from somebody else I'll ask ye to
tell me 'bout it."
"Where are you going, Ingua?"
"Home."
"You're not offended, I hope."
"No, but I got work to do. I ain't done my breakfas' dishes yet."
Mary Louise musingly watched the girl cross the river. On the opposite
bank she turned to wave her hand and then ran into the cottage. Ingua's
code of honor was a peculiar one. Her pride in the Craggs seemed
unaccountable, considering she and her grandfather were the only two of
the family in existence--except that wandering mother of hers.
But the recent conversation had uncovered a new phase of the mystery.
Old Swallowtail was nervous over something; he could not sleep at
night, but roamed the roads while others with clear consciences
slumbered. There must be some powerful reason to account for the old
man's deserting his bed in this manner. What could it be?
When she walked over to the postoffice the girl found the
long-looked-for letter from Josie O'Gorman. It said:
Dear Mary Louise:
How good you are! I positively need a change of scene and a rest, so
I'm coming. To-morrow--by the train to Chargrove. The mystery you hint
at will help me to rest. Dad doesn't want me to grow rusty and he has
some odd theories I'd like to work out. I haven't an idea what your
"mystery" is, of course, but if it enables me to test any one of the
O'Gorman theories (a theory is merely a stepping-stone to positive
information) I shall bless you forever. And that reminds me: I'm coming
as a sewing girl, to help you fix over some summer gowns. You're
anxious to give me the work, because I need it, but as we're rather
chummy I'm half servant and half companion. (I hate sewing and make the
longest stitches you ever saw!) Moreover, I'm Josie Jessup. I'm never
an O'Gorman while I'm working on a mystery; it wouldn't do at all.
Explain this to dear old Gran'pa Jim.
Between the receipt of this script and to-morrow's train jot down in
regular order everything you know concerning the aforesaid mystery.
Make it brief; no speculations or suspicions, just facts. Then I won't
waste any time getting busy.
Can you hear the rumble of my train? While you're reading this I'm on
my way!
Josie
"Good!" murmured Mary Louise, as she folded the letter. "I feel better
already. Whatever the mystery of Old Swallowtail may be, Josie is sure
to solve it."