_Clifford's Story_
"What did he say?" demanded both Jane and Freckles the moment David
McCall was out of hearing distance.
Mary Louise leaned forward and lowered her voice.
"He said Cliff Hunter set the place on fire himself--to get the
insurance. Now that his father is dead, the bungalow belongs to him."
"How awful!" exclaimed Jane. "Do you believe that, Mary Lou?"
"No, I don't--knowing Cliff as I do. Do you, Mother?"
"Certainly not," replied Mrs. Gay emphatically. "It's just David's
jealousy. He's poor himself, and he has a sort of grudge against all rich
people."
"Maybe," admitted Mary Louise. "David never did like Cliff, all the
summers they've both been coming up here to Shady Nook."
"I wish I could meet this young Hunter," lamented Jane. "I'm keen to get
a look at him."
"Maybe he isn't here any more," remarked Mary Louise. "Since the bungalow
is gone, where would he stay?"
"The Hunters are living over at the Royal Hotel, I think," Freckles
informed them. "Seems to me that's what Larry Reed said."
"Then Cliff will be over to see you," observed Mrs. Gay confidently.
Her supposition proved correct: no sooner had the Gays returned to their
own bungalow after supper than a motorboat chugged its way across the
river and anchored at their dock. A moment later Clifford Hunter stepped
out.
As Mary Louise had said, he was not a good-looking young man. His height
was only medium, and he was so thin that even expensive tailoring could
not make his clothes look well. But his big nose and his sandy complexion
were offset by a pleasant smile and attractive gray eyes, which somehow
made you feel as if you had known Cliff Hunter all your life.
"Hello, Mary Lou!" he called as he came towards the porch. "Heard you
were here!"
He whistled a gay tune as he ascended the steps, and smiled.
"Not so homely after all," Jane thought as she looked into his pleasant
face. And his white flannels and dark blue coat were certainly becoming.
They evidently did not wear sweaters at the Royal Hotel.
"Hurry up!" returned Mary Louise. "We're dying to hear the news!"
"Yes, of course." He shook hands with Mary Louise and her mother and was
introduced to Jane.
"Sit down, Clifford," urged Mrs. Gay.
The young man fumbled in his pocket and produced a pack of cards.
"In a minute, thank you, Mrs. Gay," he replied. "But first--take a card,
Mary Lou. I know some bully new tricks."
Mary Louise burst out laughing.
"Haven't you gotten over that fad yet, Cliff?" she asked.
He regarded her reprovingly.
"Don't talk so lightly about my profession!" he said. "I'm going to be a
magician. Now--I'll explain the trick. You can look at the pack----"
"Oh, but we want to hear about the fire," interrupted Mary Louise.
"Take a card!" was his only reply.
There was nothing to do but humor him. Jane was delighted: she loved card
tricks and listened eagerly. But Mary Louise was more interested in the
burning of the bungalow.
At last, however, Clifford sat down beside Jane on the couch-hammock and
began to talk.
"You saw the ruins?" he inquired.
"Yes. But nobody over at Flicks' seemed to know how it happened."
"Most amazing thing you ever heard of! It was last Saturday night. I had
four fellows from the fraternity here for the week-end, and about nine
o'clock we all piled into the boat and went over to the Royal Hotel to
dance. There happened to be a bunch of girls staying there that we knew,
so we were sure of a swell time. The whole gang from Shady Nook went
across too--the Reed family, the Partridges, the Robinsons--practically
everybody except the Flicks. So you see Shady Nook was deserted.
"We danced till around twelve o'clock and had something to eat. Then the
fellows suggested we all get into the launch and go for a ride. Mother
was game: she went along too, and so did a couple of the girls. By the
time we took them back to the hotel and came home, it must have been two
o'clock."
"Hadn't you seen any flames?" interrupted Jane. "From the river, I mean?"
"Not a flicker! But we had been motoring in the other direction, and you
know the hotel isn't right across from our bungalow, so we shouldn't have
been likely to notice when we were dancing. What wind there was blew the
other way."
"Even when you reached your own dock, didn't you smell smoke?" demanded
Mary Louise.
"Yes, we did then. But the flames were all out. The bungalow was
gone--but the trees hadn't caught fire."
"That was queer," remarked Mrs. Gay. "Unless somebody put out the fire."
"Nobody did, as far as we know," replied Clifford. "But it was out all
right. And the bungalow gone, all but the foundation stones!"
"What in the world did you do?" asked Jane.
"Went over to the Partridges'--they're the people who live next to us on
the other side," he explained to Jane. "Fortunately they were still up,
but they hadn't noticed the smoke for the trees; they had been at the
dance themselves till about one o'clock. Well, they gave Mother their one
extra bedroom, and we fellows slept in the living room. That was O.K.,
but it was pretty ghastly, losing everything at once. Especially the
clothes and things that belonged to our guests. If it was going to
happen, I don't see why it couldn't have burned down when we didn't have
any company."
"Yes, that must have been embarrassing," agreed Mary Louise. She was
thinking of David McCall's accusation--that Clifford set the bungalow on
fire himself to get the insurance--and it seemed absurd to her. He
certainly would have chosen a more convenient time.
"What did you do the next day?" she inquired.
"Mother and I went to our New York apartment, and the fellows went home.
I put in a claim for the insurance, and after we had bought new summer
outfits, we came back here and took a suite at the Royal. We expect to
stay there all summer."
"Why not Flicks'?" was Mary Louise's next question. "Everybody goes
there."
"That's just why we didn't. They're so overcrowded, and Mother likes
plenty of room. We sure get that at the Royal. The hotel's practically
empty; I don't see how poor Frazier can pay his taxes."
"He charges too much," said Mary Louise. "If he'd be content to make a
small profit, the way Mr. Flick does, he'd probably fill his hotel."
"Well, it's an expensive place to keep up. Mother feels sorry for him, so
she's entertaining a lot to bring him some business."
"I don't feel sorry for him! I don't like him. Remember that time we
wanted to give an entertainment for the Red Cross and he tried to charge
us fifty dollars for using his dining room? So we held it outdoors
instead!"
Clifford nodded. "Yes. But he says he's poor."
"So poor he can't pay his waitresses a living wage! Hattie Adams--you
remember, Jane, the girl who waited on our table at Flicks'?--said he
tried to pay her two dollars a week and excused himself by telling her
she'd make a lot on tips! She gets ten at Flicks'!"
"A man like that deserves to fail," agreed Jane.
"To get back to the subject of the fire," said Mary Louise, in her usual
practical way whenever there was a mystery to be solved, "what is your
idea of the way it started, Cliff?"
"I believe it was just an accident," replied the young man. "Maybe it was
some tramp or those kids. You know the Smith boys and a few others. Not
the Reeds, for they were at the Royal. But they're all full of mischief.
Maybe they were smoking corn silk in our garage."
"Oh, I hope not!" exclaimed Mrs. Gay, for her son played a great deal
with the Smith boys.
"Tell Freckles to snoop around a bit and keep his eyes and ears open,"
suggested Clifford. "Maybe he'll learn something. He'll enjoy being a
detective."
Mary Louise smiled; the young man did not know that she had proved
herself a very good detective earlier in the summer.
"What does your mother think?" she inquired.
Clifford frowned.
"Mother's suspicious. She believes there's been dirty work. Actually
thinks the place was set on fire--on purpose! By Ditmar."
"Ditmar! Who is he? I never heard of him."
"Probably not. But you soon will. He's a young architect who used to plan
a lot of houses for my father before he died. You know the two new
bungalows that were put up here this year--beyond Flicks'?"
"I heard there were two. But we haven't seen them yet."
"Well, Ditmar drew plans for them both. And he and his young wife live in
one of them."
"I see. But why would your mother suspect Mr. Ditmar of setting fire to
her cottage?" asked Jane.
"That's easy," replied Mary Louise. "So Ditmar would get the job of
designing a new one! But that seems dreadful. Is this man the criminal
type, Cliff?"
The latter shrugged his shoulders.
"How can anybody tell who is the criminal type nowadays, when every day
we read in the newspapers about senators and bankers stooping to all
sorts of despicable tricks?"
"True," agreed Jane. "And is your mother going to rebuild?"
"It wouldn't be Mother--it would be I who would do it," explained
Clifford. "Because Dad left the place to me, and all this land up here at
Shady Nook that hasn't been sold yet. But I don't expect to do anything
for a while. Mother's comfortable at the Royal, and I don't mind. Though
I do like the people at Shady Nook a lot better."
"Oh, well, you can come over as much as you like," said Mary Louise.
"Which is just what I intend to do! And that reminds me, one of the
things I came to talk to you about: a swell shindig for Monday night!"
"Oh, what?" gasped Jane in delight.
"A party down on the island. Everybody goes in some kind of
boat--naturally--all dressed up. I mean, the boats are to be all dressed
up, you understand. With a prize for the best decorated of each kind.
Then we'll have a feed and play games."
"That's great!" cried Jane enthusiastically. "What'll we go in, Mary Lou?
The canoe?"
"I thought maybe you girls would come in my motorboat----"
"And lose the chance of winning a prize?" interrupted Mary Louise.
"Thanks just the same, Cliff, but I've got an idea already."
David McCall was coming up the porch steps just in time to hear the
refusal, and he grinned broadly. This was just as it should be, he
thought, looking possessively at Mary Louise.
Tall and dark and handsome, David McCall was indeed a contrast to
Clifford Hunter in appearance. But Jane had already decided that she did
not like him. Nobody twenty-two years old had any right to be so serious,
even if he had been supporting himself for five years!
Mary Louise was a trifle embarrassed as she greeted him, wondering how he
and Cliff would get along together. But Cliff spoke to him cordially.
"Hello, Dave," he said. "Sit down. I've got a brand-new trick. You take a
card----"
Jane giggled. How could anybody help liking a boy like Cliff?
"Don't let's waste our time on card tricks," was David's reply. "The
light's fading. We ought to be out on the river. Or in it, if you
prefer," he added, addressing Mary Louise.
Clifford, disappointed, put his cards away.
"You can show me all your tricks tomorrow," whispered Jane
sympathetically. "I love them!"
"It's a date!" exclaimed Cliff eagerly.
Mary Louise stood up, to conceal her nervousness at the sharp way in
which David had spoken.
"O.K.," she said. "Let's go somewhere. Where?"
"In my motorboat?" suggested Cliff.
Everybody agreed, and the arrangement proved satisfactory, for the boat
was large enough for Jane and Cliff to be together at the wheel, and
David and Mary Louise off in another corner. Silky sat upright in the
middle of the boat, as if he believed he were the chaperon and it was his
sacred duty to keep his eye on everybody.
The evening passed pleasantly, for the stars were out, and the breeze
over the river delightfully cool, and the boat itself in perfect
condition. Even David forgot his grudge against rich young Hunter and
under the magic spell of the night joined happily in the singing. Mary
Louise, however, insisted that they come home early, for though they
hardly realized it, both girls were tired from their long trip.
"It's been a glorious day!" exclaimed Jane, after the boys had gone home,
and the girls were preparing for bed. "I'm crazy about Shady Nook."
"I think it's pretty nice myself," returned the other, with a yawn. "If
only poor Cliff's bungalow hadn't burned down."
"Tell me," urged Jane, "which boy you really like best--Cliff Hunter or
David McCall or Max Miller?"
Mary Louise laughed.
"I don't know. Max, I guess. Now you answer a question for me: Who do you
think set the Hunters' bungalow on fire--Cliff himself, or that Mr.
Ditmar, the architect, or the kids?"
"There you go!" cried Jane. "Being a detective instead of a normal girl
on her vacation. Who cares, anyhow? It doesn't hurt anybody but the
insurance company, and I guess they can afford it."
"Oh, but I'd like terribly to know!"
"Well, don't let's waste our wonderful month being detectives," pleaded
Jane.
"But it may be important," Mary Louise pointed out. "If it was done
intentionally, there will probably be more fires. Don't forget--our
cottage is next door to Hunters'!"
Jane opened her eyes wide in alarm.
"I never thought of that," she admitted.
"I've got to think of it," said Mary Louise. "Daddy is trusting me to
look after things, and I can't fall down on my job. Nothing like that
must happen."
"What can you possibly do about it?"
"Investigate, of course."
"How?"
"I'll begin by talking to Freckles tomorrow and see whether he's found
out anything from the boys. Then I'll make it a point to meet Mr.
Ditmar--and follow up every clue I can get hold of."
"You would!" yawned Jane as she crept sleepily into her cot.