HELEN DECLARES HERSELF.
Twenty minutes later Helen returned to her brother's home, her arms
loaded with cured meats, bread, a pie, some frosted cup-cakes, a glass
of jam, and a bottle of stuffed olives.
"There," she said, as she deposited her bounteous burden on the table.
"I couldn't get any tea or sugar or butter, but even without those we
can have quite a feast in a very short jiffy."
"I have some tea and some light brown sugar, which the children like
on their bread for a change after they've got tired of corn syrup,"
Mrs. Nash said.
"Good!" exclaimed Helen with genuine enthusiasm. "That's fine! Butter
and white sugar are unnecessary luxuries sometimes. Now we'll get busy
and will soon be feasting like a royal family."
And there was no mistake in her prediction. True, it was an extremely
democratic royalty--proletariat, to be more exact--but no child prince
or princess ever enjoyed the richest viands in a king's dining room
more than little Margaret, Ernest and Joseph Nash enjoyed the feast
spread before them by the girl auntie they had not seen for two years.
The conversation between Helen and Mrs. Nash, interrupted by the
former's errand to the delicatessen and drug stores, was taken up
again at the table of the royal feast. The way the children laughed
and "um-um-ed" over the "goodies" did Helen's heart good and rendered
even cheerful her discussion of a distressing subject.
"What in the world ever brought you here, Helen?" was the question put
by Mrs. Nash, after full confidence in the sincerity of Helen's
mission, whatever it was, had supplied her with courage to converse
with her sister-in-law with perfect frankness. "You didn't come to
Hollyhill just to visit us, did you?"
"No, I didn't," Helen answered slowly, "and that fact need not hurt
your feelings any, Nell. You'll understand what I mean when I've
finished my story. I am attending a girl's school at Westmoreland. We
are all Camp Fire Girls, and thirteen of us and a guardian came to
Hollyhill on a mission in harmony with Camp Fire teachings, that is,
to work among the poor and suffering families of the strikers during
the holidays."
"What?" exclaimed Mrs. Nash. "Do you mean to tell me that you are one
of the girls visiting at the home of Old Stanlock, the mine owner?"
"Yes, I am," Helen replied, looking curiously at the startled woman.
"Then you mustn't stay here any longer. You must hurry right back. You
are in great danger, I tell you, very great danger. The fact of your
being my husband's sister won't do you any good. There are some bad
men around here, and they're as smart as they are bad. Sometimes I
wonder if they are really miners, or if they are not an accomplished
bunch of professional crooks."
"What makes you think that?" Helen inquired.
"Well, for one reason, I've been told it. But before anybody uttered
such a suspicion in my hearing, I suspected something wrong. You see,
while Dave seems to be the leader in the strike, he is in fact only a
puppet in the hands of a band of the worst kind of crooks, who are
using him to keep the miners in line."
"Who are they?" asked Helen.
"I don't know them all. I know of only half a dozen. They have been
here at the house a number of times. The man who seems to dominate
them all is a man known as 'Gunpowder' Gerry, a powerful, cunning,
sly-eyed fellow about 45 years old. He is the business agent of the
union and runs everything, although few persons know it. In some
mysterious way he has got a very strong hold on Dave and can make him
do anything he wants him to."
"Why do you think I am in danger here?" was Helen's next question.
"Because I've heard some talk here about what would happen if you
girls attempted to carry out your plans. They had a spy, a chauffeur,
in Mr. Stanlock's home, and he found out all about it. Gerry used this
to work up bad blood among the strikers, using Dave as his tool as
usual. The threat reached my ears that if you girls came down here in
Mining Town, you would never get out alive. They think it is just a
move to put something over."
"Did you know that Dave came to Westmoreland a few weeks ago and
called at the institute to see me?" Helen asked.
"No, did he? What for? I thought he didn't have any use for you.
Excuse me for putting it that way, but it's the way he talks."
"I suppose so. That's because we objected so much to his way of doing.
But I found out on that occasion that there really was a tender place
in his heart for us. He wanted me to do something to call off our
vacation plans, as he was afraid something would happen."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I didn't take him very seriously. But when on the day before
we started for Hollyhill I happened into the postoffice at
Westmoreland and caught him in the act of mailing a letter to Marion
Stanlock, I became somewhat alarmed. I forced the truth from him after
the letter was mailed. He said he was sending her a threatening letter
in the hope that it would break up our plans. I asked him why he came
to Westmoreland to mail it. He replied that he was afraid it would be
traced to him if he mailed it in Hollyhill. Then he urged me, almost
commanded me, to prevent our plans from being carried out. He declared
that every one of us would probably be killed if we came. I promised
to do my best. I watched Marion, hoping to see her read the
threatening letter. I saw it after it was laid on her desk in her
room. I saw her glance at it and put it into her handbag before she
went to bed. Next morning I waked her early and laid the handbag right
before her eyes, hoping she would take the letter out and read it. I
did not dare to do anything more, but resolved to watch the events
closely. Marion read the letter on the train. It was signed with a
skull and cross-bones. We decided to give up our original plans, but
came on to Hollyhill."
"What did you hope to accomplish by coming to see Dave?" Mrs. Nash
inquired.
"I am going to put the matter right square up to him and demand that
he lay bare the whole plot that he has been hinting at. If he doesn't,
I'm going to tell him that I am going to lay the whole matter before
the police."
"You'll probably have to do it. I don't believe he'll ever betray the
men who control his gifts and his weaknesses as they would handle a
child."
"He really is a child in some respects, isn't he?"
"Absolutely. In fact, I believe he is half sane and half insane, and
he is just smooth enough to conceal his insanity from the miners."
"Have you any objection, Nell, to my going after him good and strong?"
Helen asked.
"Not in the least. I wish you would, only I'm afraid the results
won't be of much advantage to any of us. And I wish you wouldn't stay
here late, for I am afraid to have you start back alone after dark."
"I'll make him take me back," Helen said resolutely. "And I want to
reassure you in one respect, if you are afraid of consequences to
yourself and the children."
"Oh, don't let that bother you," Mrs. Nash interrupted. "You couldn't
make conditions much worse than they are now, and you may accidentally
make them better."
"But I have something to say that you ought to know," Helen continued.
"When father died, it was generally supposed that he left nothing for
his family. For years he drew a good salary as a mining
superintendent. Well, he didn't leave much, except about $5,000
insurance, but mother had been saving for years secretly, not even
letting him know how much she had. He supposed we were living up his
salary of $10,000 a year as we went along, for it wasn't in him to
save a cent. Mother took a good deal of delight in her secret. For a
while she had done her best to induce him to save something, and then,
realizing that her plea was futile, she got busy herself in a
systematic manner and in the course of seven or eight years she laid
aside something like $25,000.
"But shortly before father's death something happened that caused her
to guard her secret up to the present time. A large amount of money
was stolen from the company that employed father, and mother realized
at once that if it were discovered that she had so much money,
suspicion might be directed toward him. In fact, she took me into her
confidence only about a year ago.
"Now, mother has often said that she would like to do something for
you and the children, but Dave's peculiarities always stood in the
way. I just wanted to tell you that mother is able and willing to help
you and will not let you or her grandchildren suffer as a result of
what I may be forced to do."
The conversation went along in this manner for more than an hour.
Neither of the sisters-in-law realized how rapidly the time was flying
until dusk fell so heavily that it became necessary to light the gas
in order to see each other's faces.
"My, what time is it?" Helen questioned, looking at her watch. "Why,
it's nearly seven o'clock, and I haven't telephoned to Marion yet.
They'll have the whole police force out looking for me if I don't get
her on the wire pretty soon. I'll run over and see if that phone is
repaired yet. If it isn't I'll have to take a car and ride on to the
next drug store; but I'll be back before very long."
"I wish you wouldn't come back tonight, Helen," Mrs. Nash pleaded.
"I'm so afraid of those men. Why not go straight to Stanlocks' and
send word to Dave that you wish to meet him somewhere tomorrow?"
"I'd rather handle it this way," the girl answered a little
stubbornly. "I tell you what I'll do--I'll have them send the
chauffeur with the automobile over here after me. That'll be the best
way."
With this reassuring announcement, Helen put on her coat and hat and
went out. But she would not have proceeded so confidently if she could
have caught a glimpse of the figure of a man dashing far up the alley
in the rear and have realized that this man had crouched in an
eavesdropping attitude for an hour or more at the kitchen door and
overheard most of the conversation between her and her sister-in-law.
One, two blocks he ran, then through a gateway and into a house
similar to nearly every other house in the street. Two men, a woman,
and a child 10 years old looked expectantly toward him as he entered.
"All ready!" cried the latter. "She's coming down the street on this
side. Hurry up, Lizzie. Get your coat and hood on. Remember what you
are to say: father gone, mother sick. If she won't come in with a
little begging, make a big fuss, cry and plead for all you're worth.
There you are, all ready. Remember, you get a new coat if you bring
her in here."
The speaker opened the door and almost shoved the pale-faced,
trembling child out upon her strange mission.
* * * * *