THE MAN IN THE WOODS
“Oh, Nathalie, what do you think? They have sent for a detective up at
the hotel!” The speaker was Nita, who, with her friend, was sitting on
the veranda of Seven Pillars, a few afternoons subsequent to Nathalie’s
sending her letter to Helen.
“A detective?” echoed Nathalie, looking at Nita in surprise. “What for?”
“Why, about those robberies. I told you some time ago how the guests
were missing jewelry and other small articles of value. It has been kept
very quiet, but mother heard this morning that the manager is getting
worried as to who is the thief, and has sent for a secret-service man to
come up and ferret out the mystery. But, Blue Robin,” she added, with a
more serious expression, “those school friends of yours are not going to
take any more French lessons.”
“And pray, why not?” demanded Nathalie. Then she ejaculated, “Dear me,
what have we done to offend them now?”
“I don’t know. But, Nathalie, did you notice the night of the Liberty
Tea at the hotel, how they sat in a corner, whispering most of the time?
I had an uncanny feeling that they were making unkind remarks about us,
not that _I care_, for I don’t like them anyway,” added Nita
disgustedly.
“I’m sorry,” said Nathalie regretfully, “for I hate to have Mr. de Brie
lose any pupils. I imagine they were angry at the last Liberty Cheer,
for, you remember, when they joined us we all grew very quiet. Not that
any one meant to be rude, but they are so snobby that they cast a cloud
over one’s fun.”
“Well, I guess Philip can get along without them,” returned Nita
confidently. “Did you notice that he was quite the lion the other
evening? He cast the Count quite into the shade, for every one fell in
love with him.”
“Yes, he can be very charming,” acquiesced Nathalie, “for he is so
distinguished-looking in his uniform of a British lieutenant. Mother
says that in his manners he combines the fineness of an American
gentleman with the courtesy and charm of a Frenchman. I am sorry about
his arm, for the doctor says he will always have to carry it stiffly.
“But, Nita,” continued Nathalie, “I just adore that big doctor friend of
yours. What do you think? I was worrying about his calling so many times
on Philip, for I was afraid that my ‘drop in the bucket’ would not be
enough to pay the bill, and of course Philip wouldn’t have enough from
his earnings to pay it. Finally I wrote the doctor to send his bill to
me. And oh, Nita, he wrote me a love of a letter, in which he said that
he never charged girls anything. And as for Mr. de Brie, he considered
it his great privilege to be allowed to give his services to a man who
had given the best of himself to give liberty to the world. Oh, I think
he is just the dearest old thing!” ended the girl enthusiastically.
“Oh, I knew he would do _that_,” answered Nita, with a wise little
smile, “for he has the best heart in the world.”
“But listen,” went on her companion earnestly. “Janet told Philip about
it, excusing herself by saying that he was worrying over the bill, and
that she wanted to relieve his mind.”
“Of course she did,” giggled Nita, “for one can see with half an eye
what is going on in that direction for it is a clear case of ‘spoons,’
all right.”
“Do you really think so?” cried Nathalie with sudden animation. “Why, I
suggested something of that kind to mother, and she said I was a silly.
Well, they were made for one another. Why, Philip just adores the ground
she walks on, and as for Janet, it’s just a guessing game as to how she
feels. But, to go on with my tale,” continued the girl. “As soon as
Philip heard what Janet had to tell, he came straight to me, and, with a
voice that fairly shook with emotion, said that my kindness to him would
be one of the unforgettable things in his life. Of course I had to make
light of the matter, for I saw the poor fellow was terribly affected
over it. Oh, I do hope things will brighten for him this fall, for he is
going to the city, to make an attempt to get some pupils to tutor until
his health is better. You know,” she added, dropping her voice, “I think
there must have been some mystery about his grandmother, or his family,
for although he loves to come down here and be one of us,—he says it is
so homey with us,—he never says a word about her or his family.”
Nita had been reading to Miss Whipple, and Nathalie had been tying up
sweet peas, one morning a few days after Nita’s news about the
detective, and the two girls were on their homeward way, when Nathalie
suddenly exclaimed with a little burst of laughter, “Oh, Nita, I have
something funny to tell you.”
“Well, tell it to me then,” rejoined her companion somewhat dolefully,
“for although I have something to tell you, alas, it is anything but
funny.”
“Oh, is it about Philip?” cried Nathalie, a sudden premonition of evil
darkening the golden lights of her eyes. “Or are any more of the girls
going to give up taking French lessons?”
“It is worse than _that_,” answered Nita, with such grave import in her
voice that Nathalie stared at her with big eyes as she cried, “Oh, Nita!
do hurry and tell me. Have those girls—”
“Yes, those girls, your friends—”
“Please don’t call them my friends,” pleaded poor Nathalie tremulously,
“for they are anything but friends.”
“So it seems,” nodded Nita dryly, “for they have told—well, just about
every one in the house—that they suspect that Mr. de Brie is the thief
who has been robbing the hotel. You know he has been giving them private
lessons. Nelda declares that she believes Philip took her watch,—it was
lying on the table when she left the room to answer a ’phone call from
the office. Justine was out riding with the Count. When Nelda returned
the watch was gone. Five other girls came to me this morning and told me
that they were not going to take any more lessons.
“These girls have circulated all over the house,” continued Nita
gloomily, “that Philip is an impostor; that you picked him up without
knowing anything about him and that he is not a British soldier at all.
O dear! how hateful people can act! And the clerk of the hotel—Well, he
informed me this morning that the Profile House had sent word that they
did not care to have Philip speak to their guests, as people were tired
of hearing about the war.”
“Nita, this is terrible! Oh, I know Philip is not an impostor,”
protested Nathalie with a dismayed face. “Why, Nita, he showed me a
letter written to him by a soldier at the front, and he called him
Lieutenant de Brie. And where could he have gotten his uniform if he is
an impostor? Oh, I just believe those horrid, hateful girls have made
the whole thing up.” Nathalie stopped, suddenly remembering that she was
not speaking kindly, and not living up to her motto. She gave a long
sigh, and then asked, “But, Nita, have you heard anything more about the
detective coming up from the city?”
“Yes. Oh! there he is now, coming down the walk,” cried Nita, lowering
her voice. Then she added, with a laugh, “Talk of the angels and you’ll
hear the flutter of their wings.”
“Well, he doesn’t look much like an angel,” answered Nathalie, her eyes
lighting humorously, as she watched a stout, red-faced man with a sandy
moustache coming down the path towards them.
As the gentleman under discussion approached the girls he lifted his hat
courteously, as he said, “I beg your pardon, but could you tell me how I
can reach the top of Garnet? I understand that there are several trails
up the mountain, but could you tell me which one would be the best one
to ascend?”
The girls made no reply for a moment, assailed by the miserable fear
that the man was going up the mountain to trail Philip. Then Nathalie,
with an effort, turned and pointed down the road, explaining in a few
words that one of the trails started in near the Grand View road.
As the man thanked her and walked slowly on, Nathalie drew a deep
breath, while a troubled light shone in Nita’s eyes, as she cried, “Oh,
do you suppose he is going to arrest Philip?” She spoke in a
half-whisper.
“Arrest Philip? Why, the idea of such a thing! No, of course not,”
Nathalie answered determinedly, as if she was not going to allow herself
to become frightened. “Philip has committed no crime. That man can’t
arrest him unless he has some evidence, and where is he going to get
it?”
Nita made no reply, and the two girls, depressed by the unpleasant
occurrence, and the vague fear that trouble was brewing for their
friend, sat down in one of the summer-houses near the board-walk. Here
they sat in silence for a few moments, and then Nathalie, as if
determined to throw off the depression that assailed her, cried, “Oh,
Nita, I have not told you the funny thing.”
“Well, tell it to me, then; for I think it will take something real
comical to get me out of the blues.”
“It is about Tony,” explained Nathalie. “You know the child is obsessed
with the desire to have me find the mystery thing. Well, the other day
Danny came running to tell me that Tony was rolling on the floor with
the colic. I was alarmed, for I immediately thought he had been eating
green apples, the way Sheila did the other day, and mother had to
poultice her with mustard.
“I flew to his room and there was the little fellow moaning and
squirming about, apparently in great pain. When he saw me he immediately
begged me to put a mustard plaster on his stomach. I was surprised, for
generally children will suffer quite a little before they will have one
on. I found some old linen,—mother was out,—hurried down to the
kitchen closet, and got the mustard-box.
“But when I opened it, imbedded in the yellow, powdery stuff, was
something that glittered strangely. I shook the box, and out rolled a
little gold coin. I carefully examined it, and immediately saw that it
was an ancient Roman coin, for although one side was so blurred and worn
with age that I could not decipher anything on it, the other side bore
the name and head of Cæsar within a circle of fine gold beading.
“Something immediately told me that the coin belonged to Tony, and that
he had placed it there so I would find it, for, not long ago he lost
something from his vest-pocket,—he keeps all of his treasures sewed up
in that old vest. Danny had helped him look for it,—it had slipped out
of a hole,—and after it had been found he came and told me about it,
describing it as a little round piece of gold, the kind that you see, he
said, up in the museum at Central Park.
“I made the plaster and carried it, with the coin, up to Tony, but
before I put on the poultice I showed him the gold piece and asked if it
was not his. But the little chap, with a bland and innocent expression,
vowed that he had never seen it. No amount of coaxing or persuasion
could make him confess to the truth. You know that is the great trouble
I have with Tony, he will tell _teeny little stories_.” Nathalie sighed
dolefully.
“Although I was sure that he didn’t have any colic, and that the whole
thing was just a trick to get me to look in the mustard-box to find the
coin, I put the plaster on, and made him stay in bed, thinking that when
it got to burning that he would ’fess up.’ But he didn’t, and although
he howled and writhed with the sting of it,—while I was reading him a
lecture on the sin of lying,—I told the story of Ananias and
Sapphira,—he stuck it out. Then, finally, my conscience wouldn’t let me
torture the boy any longer, and I took the plaster off. That night while
he was asleep I found his old vest, and after putting the coin in the
pocket, sewed it up.”
After the girls had laughed over the incident, Nathalie started
homeward, her mind full of dismal forebodings in regard to Philip. “Oh,
I wish I could prove in some way that he is not an impostor. But suppose
he should be?” The girl came to a sudden halt. Then, with her eyes full
of a strange bright light, she went on. No, she just knew that Philip
was good and true.
“But I must do something,” she half moaned. “For how dreadfully he will
feel if he thinks that people believe him a thief; and he will soon know
something is wrong, when all the girls stop taking lessons. But Nita and
I will have to pretend that the season is drawing to a close,—as it is.
But, O dear! he does need the money so much. And Janet,—how it will
hurt her, for I am sure she cares—” the girl halted at the thought, for
it seemed too sacred a thing even to whisper to herself. Then she was
busy again, trying to think how she could prove that her friend was what
he claimed to be.
As she unconsciously uttered her thoughts aloud, by some mysterious
process of thought, or strange correlation between mind and matter,
before her mental vision flashed the picture of a dark wood, lighted by
gleams of moonlight that filtered through the tall tree-tops. In the
foreground of a forest-gloomed retreat, in front of a high rock, a man
was digging in the ground, plainly seen by the yellow flickerings from a
burning torch that had been stuck upright in the ground, a few feet
away.
Although the girl reasoned and tried to convince herself that there was
no possible connection between that man and the thief at the hotel, she
could not drive the impression from her mind. On going home she
questioned Jean, and found that he, too, still vividly remembered the
incident.
That night Nathalie could not sleep, for she was haunted by the picture
of the man in the woods, although she hurled every name she could think
of at herself for being so foolish. The next night again found her
sleepless, but when morning dawned, as if pursued and driven by the
haunting vision, she called the boys together, and stated the
circumstances to them. She did not tell her mother, as _she_ would say
that she was losing her reason, and, well, she was determined to find
out—_something_.
Early the following morning, before any one had gone through the woods,
Nathalie and the boys met Nita at the Red Trail; she had been taken into
their confidence, and accordingly was weirdly and thrillingly excited.
They soon reached the seat-tree, and then, after locating the big rock,
they all began to dig.
They had dug for almost an hour, by Nita’s wristwatch, and then, feeling
tired, and on the verge of absolute despair, were talking about giving
the whole thing up, when all at once Jean’s little terrier began to
scratch in the ground on one side of the rock, and partly under it. Jean
gave a queer little cry as he watched Tige, and the next moment had
driven the dog away, and had begun to dig as furiously as he could with
his one hand, in the place where the dog had been scratching up the
earth.
Nathalie watched him listlessly, for she had abandoned all hope, and
felt utterly weary, too, after her two sleepless nights. Suddenly Jean
gave a loud shout, and then a moment later they had all rushed to his
side, and presently were boring down into the earth under the rock as
quickly as they could, to unearth in a few moments a gold chain. Nita
gave a loud scream as she snatched it from Danny, for she immediately
recognized it as belonging to an old lady at the hotel, who had been
bemoaning its loss. A few moments’ digging, and then, with pale faces,
in repressed excitement, they replaced the chain in the hole, covered it
with dirt, so as to make it appear that the spot had not been disturbed,
and then they started home, stopping to rest on the stone ledge of
Liberty Fort, while discussing their discovery. It was enough to excite
any one, and might mean a great deal to Philip.
Nita was quite insistent at first that they should immediately tell the
manager of the hotel what they had seen. But Nathalie demurred,
convinced, on second thought, that if the jewelry was found hidden up in
the woods, because Philip lived up on the mountain, every one would say
that that was sure proof that he was the thief. “No,” declared the girl
determinedly, “we can’t do that; but we will have to come up here and
watch for the man so we can identify him.” This plan was finally decided
upon, and the little party, seething with suppressed excitement under
the weight of their momentous secret, returned home.
That night Nathalie, Danny, and Jean stole up the trail. Strange to say,
it was again a moonlight night, the same as a month ago, when the man
had been seen by Nathalie and Jean. After finding the seat-tree they all
sat down and waited, alternately dozing and waking, but although they
remained until the first streaks of gray dawn appeared, nothing
happened.
The following night, Jean—Nathalie had put the boy to bed for the day,
letting her mother think that he had one of his headaches to which he
was subject—and Tony accompanied the girl to the tree. But alas, for
the second time nothing came to pass. Nathalie began to be discouraged.
Fortunately it rained that night, and, as they could not venture out,
they all had a good night’s rest.
The fourth night again found the girl with the boys at her post,
oppressed and miserable, for by this time she began to fear that the man
in the woods was a snare and a delusion,—something she had dreamed, or
else he had gone. But why did he leave that jewelry behind?—for the
children had discovered that there were other pieces hidden in that
hole, or very near it.
All at once—Nathalie had fallen quite sound asleep—Jean gave her a
pinch; he was snuggling up against her, seated on her lap. The girl
opened her eyes sleepily, rubbed them drowsily, and then stretched them
wide, caught by the gleam of a light over by the rock. Yes, the man was
there! Her heart leaped excitedly, for he was digging under the rock,
just where they had found the jewelry!
With stilled breath, the three figures, hidden by the tree, watched him,
Nathalie’s mind keeping up an incessant query as to how she could steal
around behind the rock to get a view of his face. Ah, that queer shaking
of the head! Who was it that she had seen who had that peculiar nervous
affliction? And then, in a sudden revelation, she knew! It was the man
who had stared at her so rudely in the post-office, the man who had
repaired her automobile. Why, it was the man known as _the Count_!