ANOTHER SURPRISE
None of the boys heard anything about the exciting events which were
taking place at the tea-house until John Hadley and Jack Wilkinson
dropped in on Sunday evening about closing time. They were startled to
find two policemen on the steps.
“What has happened?” cried Jack, jumping immediately to the conclusion
that the place had been robbed.
At that moment Marjorie appeared at the door and called them in,
preferring to make her explanation herself. In a few words she related
the facts.
“But why didn’t you call on us?” asked John, in a hurt tone.
“Simply because we have been too busy,” she replied, smiling. “Every
minute has been taken up with something or other. But I did mean to call
you both tonight, when I got home.”
“And what are you planning to do about it?” asked Jack.
“The policemen are staying here all night tonight, and we are giving the
thing the widest publicity possible. Every paper in the city is coming
out with the story, and a picture of Anna; and we have offered a reward
for her return.”
“I wish _we_ could stay here!” muttered John. “We’d take more interest
than those fat, sleepy policemen would!”
“Oh, I don’t think anything interesting will happen tonight,” said
Marjorie. “Of course, one or two of the girls cling to the theory of the
supernatural; and if that were the case, something would be likely to
happen. But I don’t believe that.”
“But what could the motive be?” persisted John.
“I don’t know—I’m all at sea. Now you boys sit down while I go finish my
work. It’s harder to get through without any cook, and with our increase
in business.”
“And wait till tomorrow, after the people see the papers!” remarked
Jack. “Come on, Hadley, let’s go inside and help. Give us a job, Sis.”
“Delighted!” assented Marjorie.
With this added assistance, the girls were able to finish earlier.
Marjorie was particularly glad of the protection of the car in returning
home, for her cash box was heavy from the receipts of the day, and Lily
had been too tired to wait for her.
“You girls need a bit of fresh air,” remarked John, turning about to the
three in the back seat. “Couldn’t we go for a spin?”
“That would be great!” cried Daisy, who felt worn out from the day’s
excitement.
“But we mustn’t go far, or we’ll worry the people at home,” cautioned
Marjorie. “Marie Louise would be sure that the ghost had translated us
to another world.”
“Let’s stop and change seats,” suggested Jack. “I know Hadley is dying
for your society, Sis, and I can’t deny that I’d like to be in the back
seat with Ethel and Daisy.”
They rode for half an hour, both boys making a valiant effort to
distract the girls’ thoughts from their anxiety, but succeeding only
partially, for the affair was uppermost in the minds of all.
When they got back to the house, they found all the rest of the scouts
on the porch.
“Any news?” asked Florence, eagerly.
“Just the question I was going to ask you,” returned Marjorie,
laughingly.
“Yes, we have some news,” put in Alice. “Doris and Roger are home, and
stopped in to see us.”
“Doris and Roger? When did they come back? And why didn’t they stay a
while?”
“Oh, they only got back yesterday,” said Marie Louise; “and they have a
lot to do.”
“Doris was rather keen about helping with the tea-room until we told her
about last night,” said Florence, laughingly. “Then she made some excuse
about being awfully busy with the house—”
“And Roger encouraged her,” added Alice. “He didn’t seem to like the
idea a bit of having his little wife in danger.”
“Can’t blame him for that!” muttered John, sympathetically.
“Marjorie,” said Lily, very seriously, “I have a suggestion to make.
We’ve been talking it over here before you got back, and Marie Louise
and Doris and Florence all approved—that it would be best to close the
tea-house before anything else happens. I know dad doesn’t care a thing
about his loan; so we could just keep all the money we made and give it
to Daisy for the baby. I think we’d have enough, and there wouldn’t be
any danger of any of us following Anna.”
“No! No!” cried Marjorie. “I couldn’t give up now, Lil! Your father’s
awfully generous, I know, and would be willing to give us the money; but
I couldn’t accept it. And I feel as if we just have to solve this
mystery!”
“At the price of some girl’s life?” asked Marie Louise. “No, Marjorie,
it isn’t worth it!”
“And all sorts of problems are going to arise,” added Florence. “First
of all, we have no cook—and with these stories going around it isn’t
likely that anyone will want the job; then, there’s the difficulty of
the different girls’ vacations—they’re already arranged for; and without
being able to hire extra people we’ll all be dead tired most of the
time. And, last of all, there’s our mothers.”
“Our mothers?” repeated Marjorie. “I don’t see—”
“Why, when they read about all these wild doings in the papers they’re
going to write us to come home immediately. Indeed, I expect to get a
telegram tomorrow.”
Marjorie was silent; the arguments seemed conclusive; the majority
overwhelmingly against her. And when Lily was among the opponents, then
she felt beaten indeed.
But she had forgotten Ethel Todd.
“Girls,” said the latter; “I do not believe you are right. I think we
would be cowards to run away now, to think only of ourselves, and not at
all of Anna. The best way to get her back is to stick to our jobs and
keep on the trail. Of course, we want to take every precaution; but I
really don’t see any danger. We’re not babies—and we have the boys to
help us.”
“Indeed you have!” cried Jack, staunchly.
Marjorie cast Ethel a grateful look; she felt already as if the battle
were won.
“Let us help you out in the evenings,” offered John. “In the
kitchen—doing the rough work, and the cleaning. What are we here for,
anyhow?”
“Do you mean it?” cried Marjorie, joyfully.
“We certainly do!” said Jack. “And let the girls go on their vacations
as they had planned.”
“Just for a little while, then,” urged Marjorie. “To await developments.
It would mean so much to me! Will you, girls?”
“I will!” announced Daisy.
“And I!” added Ethel.
“I will too,” said Lily, after some hesitation.
“You can count on me,” remarked Alice.
“And Florence and Marie Louise start on their vacations tomorrow,
anyhow,” said Marjorie. “So I guess we’re all right. I think I’ll put an
ad in the paper tomorrow for a new cook. We may get an answer if I don’t
mention the tea-house till I see the applicant.”
“I—don’t—think—you’ll—need—a new cook!” remarked Ethel, slowly, with her
eyes fixed on a distant point. “If I’m not mistaken, I see your old cook
coming back!”
“What?” cried Marjorie, jumping up in excitement. “Ethel, is it—can it
be—?”
“Yes, it _is_ Anna!” she replied. “She’s opening the gate now!”
All the girls rushed with one accord down the porch steps, towards the
girl in a white dress, who slowly, falteringly, made her way up the
walk. She walked uncertainly, as if she were weak or ill, and scarcely
acknowledged their noisy welcome. Marjorie and Ethel hastened to her
support, one on each side of her.
“Where have you been?” demanded Lily, breathlessly.
“What happened?” asked Alice.
But Anna only half closed her eyes and sighed. Even in the darkness the
girls could see how pale and tired she was.
“I’m very hungry!” she said, at last.
Florence and Alice ran into the house to find Mrs. Munsen to prepare
food and a stimulant, while the others almost carried the exhausted girl
to the couch. They were so impatient in their curiosity that they could
not refrain from asking one question after another. But Anna maintained
an indifferent silence.
In a few minutes Mrs. Munsen returned with some broth, and, for the
first time, Anna manifested interest. She ate and drank greedily, as if
she had been fasting for the last twenty-four hours.
At last, when she seemed partially satisfied, she leaned back against
the cushions of the davenport and began to talk.
“How long have I been gone?” she asked.
“Not quite a day,” replied Marjorie. “Your aunt said it all happened
about one o’clock last night.”
“Where have you been?” demanded Florence, too impatient to wait for the
story.
“In the cellar at the tea-house!”
“But you haven’t!” cried two or three of the girls at once.
“We searched every corner of it, and so did the policemen!” explained
Lily.
“Then I don’t know where I was,” said Anna, as if she resented the
contradiction.
“Well, where did you come from tonight?” inquired Ethel.
“From the cellar, I tell you! I came up stairs and let myself out of the
front door. I saw your sleepy old policemen smoking in the rose arbor,
but they never noticed me come out of the house. That’s all the good
they are!”
“I never did think much of them!” remarked Ethel.
“Tell us everything—please—from the beginning!” begged Marjorie, unable
to repress the excitement she felt in finding Anna really alive.
“I’ve told you about all there is to tell,” said Anna, wearily. “Except
that I had a warning from the spirit world—for you girls!”
“A warning?” repeated Marie Louise, her eyes wide open in amazement.
“Oh, girls, what did I tell you!”
“Go on—go on, Anna!” urged Marjorie.
“Well, I guess my aunt told you that I went down stairs to make sure we
had locked the back door, because I thought I heard some noises back by
the stable. Well, when I found that it was surely locked, I started
through the hall to the stairs again. I got to the cellar—”
“You didn’t go down the cellar!” cried Alice, in horror. “Not alone?”
“No! _I fell down the cellar!_” announced Anna. “Some of the boys had
been joking about looking for ghosts down the cellar, and had gone down
during the evening. They must have left the door all the way open, and I
guess I walked into the cellarway instead of coming back through the
hall, and tumbled full length to the bottom.”
“Heavens!” exclaimed Mrs. Munsen; “it’s a blessing you weren’t killed!”
“Did you scream?” demanded Marjorie.
“I don’t know—I honestly don’t remember anything clear till I woke up at
the bottom of the steps, right before I came here!”
“But Anna, you couldn’t have been there all the time!” protested Ethel.
“The policemen searched the place thoroughly last night, and two of the
girls went over the whole house this morning!”
“All right, then,” said Anna, sulkily; “I dreamt it!”
“But tell us about the message,” pleaded Marie Louise, longing to hear
more of the weird story the girl had hinted at.
“But you won’t believe that either!” muttered Anna.
“Yes, yes, we will!” cried Lily. “Please tell us!”
“Well,” said Anna, “once I seemed to be roused up from my trance or
sleep or whatever you call it by a series of knocks. I opened my eyes,
but it was so dark that I couldn’t see nothing. Then I heard a hollow
voice say:
“‘TELL THOSE GIRLS TO LEAVE THIS HOUSE. IT IS HAUNTED!’”
“What kind of voice?” demanded Marjorie, in a hoarse whisper.
“A spirit’s voice, I tell you! Now—I’ve told you everything I know—won’t
you please let me go to bed?”
“Oh, you poor girl!” exclaimed Mrs. Munsen, in a motherly tone. “How
selfish we have been! How thoughtless! You shall go to bed right away!”
As soon as the girl was gone, John Hadley offered to drive over to Mrs.
McCreedy’s with the good news; and the others settled down to talk the
whole thing over.
“She couldn’t have been down the cellar all that time!” said Marjorie.
“Lily and I know that!”
“Could she possibly have been covered up by some of the packing—or
hidden away in a dark corner,” suggested Ethel.
“No—we searched everywhere!”
“Then you don’t think she is telling the truth?” asked Alice.
“No, I don’t!” said Marjorie. “She has been some place that she doesn’t
want us to know about!”
“How suspicious you are, Marj!” laughed Jack.
“The spirit explanation isn’t possible?” asked Lily.
This opened a new topic of speculation, and the young people continued
to discuss the affair from every possible angle, until Marie Louise, who
had been summoned to the telephone soon after Anna went to bed, returned
to the room and interrupted the conversation by a startling
announcement.
“That phone call,” she said, “was from a reporter, and I gave him the
whole story.”
“Yes,” said Marjorie. “But how did you put it—what explanation did you
give?”
“I told him,” replied the girl calmly, “the facts just as Anna stated
them—with the haunted house as the explanation.”
“Oh!” gasped Marjorie, sinking limply back into her chair. “Now we are
ruined!”
“But how?” asked Marie Louise, in astonishment.
“Every paper in the city will get the story tomorrow, and it will be the
end of our business!”
“On the contrary, Sis,” put in Jack, “it will be the beginning of
business! Just wait and see the flock of curious people that come—”
“Marjorie,” interrupted Lily, in a most serious tone, “I think we ought
to do something to unravel this mystery!”
“Yes,” added Marie Louise; “let’s get a spiritualist—a medium—to help
us!”
“Not much!” cried Jack. “Give us fellows a chance. We can do more with a
little team-work than all the mediums in the world!”
“Suppose,” said Marjorie, “we decided all that tomorrow. We need rest as
well as Anna—so—I move we adjourn!”
“And I second that motion,” said Ethel, with a yawn.