UNDER SUSPICION
Bet Baxter insisted that Phil Gordon was not mistaken when he said he
had put the ivory fan on her father's desk. But the detective shook
his head and later in a talk to Chief Baldwin said:
"It looks bad for that young man, Chief. He was the last to have it.
He acknowledges he's hard up, and he knew its value."
"You're barking up the wrong tree, Longworth. Everybody knows Phil
Gordon and would trust him anywhere."
"All the more reason why he can act so brazen and innocent in the
matter. It looks bad," Detective Longworth announced. "I've seen so
many cases just like it. I'll keep my eye on that young fellow and I
bet I'll get the goods on him."
The detective's suspicions travelled at a lively rate around the
village and before twenty-four hours it came to the ears of the
Merriweather Girls. It was Edith Whalen and her shadow, Vivian Long,
who passed on the gossip to Joy Evans.
"Now what do you think of your friend Phil Gordon?" asked Edith. "I
guess Bet didn't know she was associating with a thief. I saw him with
that fan at the party and he was acting in a suspicious way. Lots of
folks are sure he stole it."
"Who says Phil took the fan?" demanded Joy.
"Everybody's saying it! And the detective seems to think he has the
clue pretty well run down and expects to arrest Phil any time now."
Edith asserted with venom in her voice.
"I don't believe a word of it!" snapped Joy.
Indignation was at its highest pitch when Joy told Bet and her chums
what Edith had said.
"Now we've just got to do something!" exclaimed Shirley. "We must
clear Phil and that's all there is about it!"
"All right, what will we do first?" Kit jumped to her feet, ready for
action.
"Who would have any interest in the fan, besides your father?" Shirley
questioned Bet.
"Another antique dealer might, but no one would know he had it," Bet's
eyes were bright and intense with anxiety.
"What about Peter Gruff?" cried Kit. "I never trusted that old man!
And he _was_ interested in that picture of the fan."
"But he's interested in all old things, and you heard him say that it
was a common type and had no particular value," said Shirley. "No, I
don't believe old Peter would want it that badly."
"I'm not so sure. I wasn't impressed with Peter Gruff, as you know.
I'm going to prowl around his shop and see what I can see," laughed Kit
as she grabbed her hat and coat.
"Wait a minute and we'll go down to Shirley's Shop," cried Bet. "I
can't believe such a thing of old Peter but we won't leave anything
undone."
And as soon as the girls reached the shop, Kit went over to Peter
Gruff's store. She asked to see samplers. "We'd like to have a few
for our shop," she remarked to the old man.
"No samplers!" muttered Peter. "I don't keep any. No money in
samplers."
"Let me see some pewter pitchers, then." Kit was enjoying the musty
old store with its strange collection of odds and ends, piled everyway
about the dust-laden store.
Peter Gruff didn't have any pewter pitchers.
"Then, do you happen to have any fans?" exclaimed Kit suddenly, hoping
to surprise the old man into looking guilty.
"No money in fans. I don't sell fans."
And Kit had to acknowledge that there was not the slightest change of
expression in his hard blue eyes.
But as she poked her way about the place she saw a glass case and
inside among bottles, books, old china and other objects, she saw
several fans. She edged closer to the case and glanced through the
assortment, but the fan she wanted was not there.
Of course she hardly expected to find it. If Peter had taken the fan,
he would hide it away for a while at least.
"But there is something suspicious about him. Saying he didn't have
any fans, when they were right there all the time," Kit confided to the
chums when she returned to the shop.
"It does look suspicious!" Joy cried. "Girls, I do believe we are hot
on the trail."
"I wish I could believe it!" Bet was not optimistic. "I don't believe
he did it. He's heard of the theft of the fan and acts a little
embarrassed. I do wish Dad were here!"
"I don't. I want to find that fan before he returns," announced
Shirley with quiet decision.
"I hope we do!" said Bet.
"We're Merriweather Girls and we must find a way out of this
difficulty. Lady Betty saved the Manor in her day, now we will do the
same!" Kit said decidedly.
"Yes, but how?" groaned Bet. "I've thought and thought about it until
my head whirls."
The more the girls puzzled over the mystery, the less light appeared.
Kit made daily visits to the antique shop, hoping to find something
suspicious. She made friends with Jacques, the freckled-faced little
French boy who worked for Peter. He was shy at first, but Kit soon put
him at ease with her kindly smile. He gazed up at her with big, dark
eyes that expressed his devotion. Kit had won his heart, and the girls
saw him often staring up from the basement window, hoping to get a
glimpse of her.
One day when Kit was looking over the assortment in the glass case of
Peter's shop, she was surprised to find that the fans had been removed.
She was about to ask Jacques where they were when Old Peter Gruff
returned.
"You know, Mr. Gruff, I just love your shop! I hope you don't mind me
prowling around and looking at things."
She got only a curt grunt in reply, but Kit didn't mind. She went on:
"That's awfully kind of you! I'm going to come often."
Kit always returned from her visits with new suspicions. Although she
had found no clue, she insisted that the old man was guilty.
"Kit, I'm surprised at you!" declared the gentle Shirley. "He's a
harmless old man, and I don't believe he would steal from Colonel
Baxter."
"Maybe he wouldn't," Kit returned with a frown, "but I still have my
doubts. I wish I had his shop to myself for half a day, then I'd make
sure the fan was not hidden there.--Or I'd find it."
"Why couldn't you send him up to the Manor to fix a chair or
something?" exclaimed Joy.
"He'd probably see through it. Peter Gruff is foxy," replied Bet.
"Anyway I had orders long ago never to let the old man in the house
when Dad was away."
"So your father didn't trust him?" cried Kit exultantly.
"Well Dad just thought it would be better not to put temptation in his
way. He's crazy about old bric-a-brac, you know. And Dad didn't know
what he might be up to."
Kit got her chance to have the shop to herself the next day. Old Peter
Gruff left early in the morning, and Jacques was alone.
"It's luck, Kit," shouted Bet. "Come right away!"
Jacques smiled and bowed as the girls filed in. And when Kit asked him
to see pewter, brass, crystal, one right after the other, the boy raced
around furiously to please her.
"I want to go down stairs," said Kit with a smile.
"Mr. Gruff doesn't want people down stairs," began the boy, but before
he had finished his sentence, Kit was already on the lowest step.
But the store room was so packed with things that it was impossible to
move about. Two dim lights gave only enough glow to cast heavy shadows
about the vault-like cellar. There was something sinister about the
gloom.
"Let's get out of here while the getting's good!" whispered Joy. "I
feel as if someone might jump up any minute from behind these old
bureaus. I believe the place is haunted."
"No, don't go yet," pleaded Kit. "I haven't seen half enough. Who
cares for ghosts, anyway? Say Jacques, what does Mr. Gruff keep in
that old cabinet there?"
"Just some old china and fans and things."
"Let's see the fans," Kit demanded.
"Funny how everybody wants to see fans lately," said Jacques. "A big
tall man, then a young man, then you girls."
Kit started violently. "Who was the tall man?" she asked abruptly.
"I dunno!" replied Jacques. "Phil Gordon came and asked Peter
questions, and the old man got mad and said, 'Git out!'"
While he was talking Jacques had brought out the fans at Kit's request,
but they were cheap and not any particular value.
"I wonder what Phil found out," mused Bet.
But whatever Phil's object was in going to the antique shop, it
strengthened the suspicion against him. The detective, who had been
watching him for days, was now assured that the boy was trying to
dispose of the fan and on questioning Peter Gruff, he believed that his
suspicions were correct.
Phil had asked the old man if he ever bought fans. Mr. Longworth
reported this to Bet Baxter and the next day when she met Phil on the
street, he hurried by as if anxious to avoid a talk with her.
Bet was wild with anxiety. Phil had looked at her in such a guilty
way. She hurried home and, once inside the house, she burst into
tears. "What's the matter with Phil Gordon, anyway? He couldn't have
taken that fan. Then why does he act like a thief?"
That afternoon Bet was moping about the house when her three chums
arrived. Vacation would soon be over and they were making the most of
those two short weeks. But Bet was not in a mood for merry-making.
Another letter had come from her father regarding the fan. It read:
"I know you have been prompt in looking after the fan as I told you to
do. It is the greatest satisfaction that in matters of this sort I can
trust you implicitly. I am rejoicing that the money I will receive
from the fan will meet the demands of my creditors and that I'll not
have to sell the Manor. The lucky little fan has saved us!"
"Girls, what am I going to do?" Bet sobbed as she finished reading the
letter to them.
"I know one thing, Bet Baxter. A Merriweather Girl doesn't waste time
and energy in tears! Lady Betty scorned tears!" declared Shirley.
"She looks as if she had never had a trouble in the world," sighed Bet,
looking up at the picture.
"Laugh and the world laughs with you!" hummed Joy. "Cheer up, the
worst is yet to come!"
"Keep quiet, Joy Evans. Those are about the silliest speeches a human
being can make. I wish you'd go home--oh no, Joy, I don't mean that,
I'm just worried."
"Of course you are, old dear. We all know it and want to help you, if
we can. Come on out and have a snowball match."
It was a glorious day, sharp and sparkling and the snow crunched under
their feet as they walked.
"This is the sort of weather when I long to go on a hike," said
Shirley. "If it wasn't for this trouble we're having I'd suggest it."
"Let's go tomorrow anyway!" exclaimed Bet impulsively. "That is,
unless something very important comes up. We're not accomplishing
anything by hanging around the house and brooding."
"Right you are, Bet!" shouted Joy, as she threw a snowball at Kit. "If
we take a brisk hike through the woods maybe the wind will blow the
cobwebs out of our brains and we'll be able to think of some way to
find that fan."
"The detective is on the job. I'm sure he'll find a clue," remarked
Shirley quietly.
They returned to the house and found Uncle Nat disturbed over a visit
from Amos Longworth. "Why that man was quizzing me up just as if he
thought _I_ stole the fan!"
"That detective is loco," laughed Kit, using a term from her beloved
mountains.
"What does loco mean, Kit?" asked Joy.
"It means he's crazy! The horses get crazy in the mountains from
eating a weed by that name. That's the way with Mr. Longworth; he's
been eating loco weed."
"I'll say he has," Joy agreed merrily.
When the girls separated for the night they had made their plans to
start the next day at eleven o'clock for a hike. That would give them
plenty of time to hear anything that the detective might find out.
That evening Bet received a message from Mrs. Gordon. During the talk
she told Bet that Phil was worrying himself sick over the theft of the
fan.
"I know Phil wouldn't do it, Bet," his mother exclaimed.
"Of course he wouldn't. We girls have never blamed him, not even for a
second. It's that silly detective! Don't worry about it. We'll find
it, somehow!"
Bob Evans had gone away the day after the party and when he came back
and heard the accusation against Phil, he was ready to fight.
"The very first person I met when I got off the train told me that Phil
had stolen the fan belong to Colonel Baxter," he told Joy.
"Who said it?" cried Joy.
"A great friend of yours."
"No friend of mine would accuse Phil. The whole thing is ridiculous!"
"Why Edith Whalen said he was going to arrested within twenty-four
hours!"
"Lots she knows about it! But if that detective had his way, he might
be. I can't imagine anyone paying a man to be so stupid. We girls
have told him again and again that Phil had nothing to do with it."
"Has Phil been asked up to the Manor since that happened?" asked Bob.
"No, I don't think so. He's been up several times but it has been with
the detective or Chief Baldwin."
"Then you girls ought to ask him to go with you, just to show him and
everybody else chat you don't believe a word of all this gossip! Phil
wouldn't steal! I'd trust him with anything!"
But while Bob stormed and determined to clear his friend in some way,
his efforts were not successful. He made it a point to have Phil with
him wherever he went, but that did not clear the boy of suspicion.
The girls, as well as Bob, were anxious to do something for their
friend, but as the fan had disappeared and there was no evidence left,
they seemed to be getting nowhere. Bet and her chums were desperate.
The girls looked forward to the hike in the snow as a diversion that
would rest their tired nerves and help them to see more clearly on
their return.