SUSPICIONS
No sooner had they deposited Miss Davis at her front gate than Cara
turned to Babs.
“Now see here, Sister,” she began facetiously, “you’ve got to tell me
all about this. What’s on your mind?”
“Of course, Cara, I intend to tell you. I’ve just been waiting for a
chance,” answered Babs, sullenly.
“Well, here’s your chance. Go ahead and tell. And judging from the
look on your alabaster face it needs to be told. Honestly Babs, you
look years older since yesterday. Nobody murdered, I hope?”
Babs laughed, but it was a sickly little laugh, and had nothing to do
with merriment.
“No, not murder exactly,” Babs replied after an embarrassed pause.
“But you know how seriously those old ladies take their family
heirlooms.”
“Yes.”
“And you know the Davis ladies are twins.”
“Yes.”
“Well, one twinnie wanted to show a family piece and the other twinnie
objected,” Babs continued, in a voice as even as a tape line put
through the phonograph.
“She would. All twinnies are that way. Go ahead,” proposed Cara a
little impatiently.
Barbara sighed. She had secretly gone over the details of the loss so
often since Miss Davis came this morning, that her weary brain fairly
pricked in dismay at encountering the subject in word form.
“Miss Davis brought a little ship model, one of those old-time
murderous, pirate-prisoner sailing things,” she began bravely, “and it
has disappeared.”
“Disappeared! Do you mean the famous Davis model of Columbus’ _Santa
Maria_?” Cara almost stopped her car unconsciously, in surprise.
“Yes,” said Babs, from tightened lips.
“Oh, how dreadful! How did it disappear? How could it, I mean?”
“I don’t know,” Babs flared back this time. “You don’t suppose I _do_
know, do you, Cara?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that, Babs; of course you don’t know,” Cara sort of
apologized. “But I thought you might have some idea. Here we are.
Going to stay long? I’ve got to drive Mother to the village——”
“Don’t think of coming for me, Cara,” Babs interrupted as she stepped
out of the car in front of the Community House. “I need the walk back
home. I’m not going to stay long, either,” she declared, “for I don’t
see a lot of fun in sorting this truck. Of course, we’ve promised, and
we’ve got to help,” she recalled, “but it’s women’s work; we do better
in swimming this time of year.”
“We certainly do, Babs,” Cara promptly agreed. “But you haven’t
unburdened your soul.” She had a merry way of making things easier.
Most of Babs’ troubles seemed to take wings when Cara Burke blew her
breath at them. But this was different. It wouldn’t go. It couldn’t go
when each step added weight to the worry.
Nicky was gone!
“You know,” Babs almost whispered to Cara, for she had one foot on the
running board and that brought her very close to Cara’s ear, “you
know,” she repeated, “Nicky’s folks have moved.”
“I guessed that,” Cara answered.
“Why?”
“Because I heard him begging you for money yesterday on the porch.
Don’t look so alarmed. I went out looking for you and heard him almost
sobbing for some money,” said Cara.
“Who heard us?” Another shock for Babs.
“Oh, don’t look so panicky,” smiled Cara. “I didn’t hear anything
important. Those youngsters are always after money and there was
nothing strange in Nicky’s wanting some. I suppose he wanted it to
help out with the moving.”
“I suppose so,” agreed Babs. Once again Cara vanquished a bugbear.
What harm had there been in Nicky’s asking for money, after all?
“What did the girls say?” Babs asked evenly. “Were they looking for
me?”
“Oh, you know what _they_ would say. Well, that’s what they said. But
Babs, old girl, you just better jump in here again and ride around
with me,” Cara proposed. “You don’t look a bit like Old Home Week and
you shouldn’t go in there. That’s a girl,” she chanted, for Babs was
stepping back into the car. “Now, sit close to your old friend and
pour out the whole horrible tale. How did the _Santa Maria_ disappear?
Who was around when you left last night?”
Babs felt a little gasp catch at her throat. That was it. Who was
around?
“Just Miss Davis and I were there,” she began, but her sigh meant more
than her words.
“Babs ducky,” pleaded Cara ever so kindly, “don’t you think you will
feel better when you tell me? You can trust me, can’t you?”
That appeal stirred a new emotion in Barbara Hale.
“Of course I can, Cara,” she answered instantly, “and you likely know
exactly what is worrying me. I’m afraid Nicky took that model!”
“Oh, Babs! He couldn’t. Not Nicky!”
“You’re a love to have such confidence in him, Cara. That helps.” Babs
showed her relief. “There must be a good reason for such confidence as
we have. But the poor little fellow! You see, how it looks; his
wanting money so badly, and then—this.”
Cara glanced at her wrist watch. “I’ve got an hour before time to go
for Mother,” she said, “so let’s go down to the beach. The brisk air
will whip us up a little. We’re fagged,” she said smilingly,
“especially you. Like old ladies who need catnip tea.”
A few minutes later they were discussing Nicky’s flight earnestly, and
with a determined effort to help him.
“But how can we ever find him?” lamented Babs. “You know how queer
those Italians are. If we just ask a question about where the Marcusis
have moved to they’ll suspect we are enemies and they’ll do everything
to hide their tracks. What on earth can we do?” Babs wondered and
wondered.
“Are you sure no other boy was with him when he peeked in the window?”
Cara questioned.
“Not sure; I couldn’t see well for it was nearly dark. But you know he
is almost always alone.”
“Yes; poor kid, he doesn’t get much chance to play, I guess,” Cara
replied. “Seems as if he is either selling junk or falling off
bicycles. You never got any reply from Washington about his heroism,
did you?”
“No. If only I did that might help,” sighed Babs. “But Cara, I can’t
help thinking that Nicky looked guilty when he bolted out before Dad’s
car. Even Miss Davis noticed that.”
“Oh, Miss Davis!” scoffed Cara. “She’d be sure to think that. But it
doesn’t mean a thing. Babs, I’m sure Nicky wouldn’t go off without
leaving some word for you. He’s too smart to forget you.”
“Why?” asked Babs innocently.
“Why? Because he idolizes you. Because he thinks you are his guardian
angel. Don’t you know the girls even said your father was going to
adopt him?”
“Cara Burke!” That left Babs speechless.
“Yes, indeed they did,” Cara repeated. “And it wouldn’t be a bad idea.
Can you believe that Dud asked Dad if _we_ couldn’t take him? Dud is
just crazy about the youngster. And maybe you didn’t know that Dud
took him and his old bike and the oil can all the way over to
Breakintake to have a real photograph made. He declared he was going
to send it to some news syndicate——”
“For gracious sake!” exclaimed Babs. “He didn’t!”
“He did, too. You don’t know what a hustler my brother is,” wound up
Cara, proudly.
“Well,” gasped Babs, brightening at all this good news, “I guess I do
know how smart Dud is, Cara. Didn’t I spend hours racing around in his
good little car when I should have been doing other things at your
house party?”
“You certainly did,” laughed Cara. They were cheered up considerably
now.
“And just imagine the girls thinking that we, Dad and I, could take
Nicky,” Babs went on. “They evidently don’t know how poor we are,” she
said, as if glad to say it, as if she feared giving Cara a false
impression of her own humble circumstances.
“Poor! indeed! You’re rich in a lot of things, Babs,” spoke up Cara.
“And if you wanted to take Nicky you would soon find out what a real
help he could be.”
“I wish I had taken him—last night,” declared Babs, tossing her head
to one side so far that her hair came tumbling down like a curtain
over one eye. “But it’s too late to make wishes; what we have got to
do is to make plans. You see, Cara, it would be so much better if we
could get hold of Nicky right away, because Miss Davis’ twin sister
Tillie is away. If we could find him, somehow I feel we would find the
_Santa Maria_.”
“You don’t think he took it?”
“No, I don’t. But I feel he would know something about it,” Babs
insisted.
“So do I: I might as well admit that,” Cara promptly added. “But say,
Babs, did you ever find out anything at all about who did the
beautiful wood carving?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“It must have been done in Nicky’s home.”
“Why? He could have gone out for it, some place.”
“Hardly. Because one morning Dud went around to the house and gave the
whistle he had learned to call Nicky with. When Nicky answered him his
sweater pockets were filled with fine wood shavings. Dud said he kept
playing with the shavings and smelling of their sandalwood odor. There
wasn’t a doubt about it they came straight from Nicky’s house.”
“That’s very queer,” Babs pondered. “No one but a man could do such
skilled work, and who could the man be? That family is helped by the
town, you know. They have no real means of support, since their father
was taken from them.”
“Well, I’ve got to go now,” Cara decided after a glance at her watch.
“Mother is coming over to the club, the Community House of course. She
has spent the morning digging up family relics. Hope she hasn’t
unearthed any of my love letters,” the girl chuckled. “They _would_ be
worth exhibiting.”
“Or any of your early attempts at art,” added Babs. “They’d make quite
a showing if Mrs. Brownell would let you put them on easels on her old
mahogany table.”
“Oh, that old table! Wasn’t it too funny how they fought about it
yesterday? I suppose it will be the spinet today. Really that spinet
is worth fighting over,” Cara added thoughtfully. “It is a genuine
antique.”
“Don’t let’s talk about antiques,” begged Babs. “It gives me the
shivers, after the ship model. But say, Cara, I’ve a notion to go to
Captain Quiller. He ought to know where the Marcusis would be apt to
go to.”
“Bright idea,” agreed Cara, swinging an arm around her companion.
“I’ll take you after lunch. Don’t worry in the meantime. I’ll drop in
and see if Miss Davis is alive yet.” Cara would do anything and
everything to help Babs.
“All right, thanks a lot. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Cara,”
said Babs, affectionately. “You see, I’ve lost Glenn.”
“Yes _I_ see,” chuckled Cara. “He runs around with Dud and sometimes
they condescend to let me hitch on. But girls are best; aren’t they,
Babby?”
“Yes _they_ are, Cara. See what I did by chumming with even a little
fellow. I’d give a whole lot this very minute to forget Nicky
Marcusi.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“No, I don’t suppose I would either,” amended Babs. “And besides, we
have a mystery to ferret out. Who carved the candlesticks?”
“A noble soul whoever he is,” declared Cara, “for Mother declares no
one else could have done that work, and Mother always knows—about
candlesticks,” said Cara slyly.
“But the boat,” sighed Babs as they were again taking their seats in
the auto. “Why will twins inherit valuable war-time convict-prison-made
models?”
“Because, being twins they had to inherit something silly,” laughed
Cara. “But let’s hope for good news from Captain Quiller. Dad thinks
he’s a rare old character. He goes down to the lighthouse often just
to talk with him. I’ll tell you, Babby, we started something at that
famous house party, didn’t we?”
“A lot,” agreed Babs. She threw out her arms yawning with relief. “I
do feel better,” she said with a smothered sigh. “You have no idea how
blue I was.”
“Haven’t I? Didn’t I suspect murder? Say, Babs, you can show more
moods in your face than a whole movie show. You ought to go into the
movies,” she joked. “You wouldn’t have to do a thing but look and then
keep on looking, differently.”
They were able to joke now, even Babs was almost like herself again.
But it was no easy matter to feel cheerful and also feel somewhat
responsible for the loss of that precious model.
Not that Barbara had had anything directly to do with it, but because
she had opposed everybody in keeping up her interest in the little
Italian. And just now it certainly looked pretty black for Nickolas
Marcusi Junior’s reputation.
“Trouble is,” said Cara without hinting at what she was going to talk
about, “if they found Nicky has had anything to do with that they’ll
just grab him up and clap him in a reform school.”
“Oh, Cara, they wouldn’t!” exclaimed Babs in real terror.
“Well, that’s what I think they might do,” said Cara, regretting
instantly her careless remark. “Of course, with such good friends as
your father and my father and Captain Quiller he might have a better
chance.”
“Cara, it would be simply terrible if the State should take that boy
from his mother after having taken the father. Oh, we must hurry to
Captain Quiller,” wailed Babs. “Miss Davis is so nervous she might go
to old Chief Morgan, and he doesn’t know any more about police work
than the ugly old stupid yellow dog that hounds his heels.”
“I’m sorry I said that, Babs,” confessed Cara, seeing how newly
excited Babs had become. “There is no reason in the world to worry
about Nicky. Why shouldn’t he move away if his mother wanted to?”
“I try to feel that way, Cara, but I suppose—oh well, we’ll see what
the Captain says. I’ll be ready any time you are.”
“About two,” said Cara, and then they both saw Dora waiting on the
porch—waiting with a letter in her outstretched hand.