ANOTHER CLUE
Bob Dulaney had hardly left the shop before Hortense Markle burst out
with the remark:
“Miss O’Gorman, how could you be so imprudent?”
“Imprudent? I? You mean because I told Mr. Dulaney he might come
keep shop for us?” asked Josie, looking so stupid Hortense felt like
slapping her. “You don’t think that was proper?”
“Proper! The idea! My dear girl, I only meant it was imprudent to
let him go off with that valuable book of your father’s. I am sure
we all feel an interest in you, and such a book as that is of untold
value. Did you not say it contained notes he had kept almost from
the beginning of his career and had descriptions of all the noted
criminals, convicted and unconvicted?”
“Yes, it has,” answered Josie, putting on the air of a moron. Her tone
was so dull and her manner so stupid that Elizabeth and Irene, who
well understood the keen intelligence of their partner, looking on in
astonishment. What was she trying to do?
“Well, knowing that, don’t you think it was a little too trusting to
let a strange young man simply walk off with that precious book in his
pocket? He might keep on walking and never come back. Such a treasure
as that would be of more value to a collector than I can tell you
and Mr. Dulaney could realize more from the sale of such a book than
he could make on his tuppenny articles for Sunday supplements in ten
years’ time.”
Irene’s eyes were flashing. At least now she had a reason for hating
Hortense Markle. What a cruel suggestion! How could she harbor such
a thought? Bob Dulaney with his frank open manner and kind, clear
eyes, Bob Dulaney a possible thief! Danny Dexter’s friend! Her friend
too--she felt she could count him among her real friends. Could she
sit there and let such an imputation go unchallenged? She looked at
Josie in astonishment. Of course it was her business to combat such an
unkind suggestion, but Josie was looking blank as a whitewashed fence.
Elizabeth, however, arose to the occasion with:
“I fancy you are mistaken, Mrs. Markle. I am sure Mr. Dulaney is
honor itself. I think he can be trusted with anything, no matter how
valuable. I’d stake my life on it.”
“And I, mine!” spoke up Irene in a low clear voice.
“Ah, and so the handsome Goliath has champions among the fair sex,”
laughed Hortense. “Heavens, children, I had no idea of bringing down
such a deluge of vituperation on my poor little head! I was merely
interested in the little book, not on my own account but on my
husband’s. Felix was so excited over your having such a book, my dear
Josie. He has always been interested in codes and hieroglyphics. He was
dying for me to ask you to lend it to him, but I utterly refused. No
wonder I am a little peeved when you hand it calmly over to the first
good looking young man who asks for it. Well, I must be going. Don’t
hurry with the napkins and don’t bother to send them to me. I’ll call
for them.”
She tripped gaily from the shop, calling back from the door:
“Please don’t be cross with me for suggesting that poor Mr. Dulaney
might be tempted by the marvelous little book. He is, to all
appearances, a charming young man, but then after all we don’t really
know him very well.”
“We know him as well as we know you,” was on the tip of Irene’s tongue,
but she did not say it, only bowed her head stiffly when Hortense
included her in the beaming smile and wave of farewell.
“Rather catty, I call that,” said Elizabeth, when their charming
visitor was well out of ear shot. “What do you think she meant by
suggesting such a horrid thing, Josie?”
Josie, who had lost her strange stupid look, laughed gaily at
Elizabeth’s question. “She didn’t mean anything at all, Elizabeth. She
was put out because the nice, big boy didn’t pay her any attention. He
was either talking business and books with you and me or he was leaning
over Irene there making engagements. The beautiful Mrs. Markle must be
the center of attraction or she won’t play.”
“Oh!” and Irene blushed rosy red. This was indeed being like other
girls if somebody was jealous of her. “I can’t help thinking she had
some other motive,” Irene whispered to Josie, when Elizabeth went back
to her noisy copying of the flamboyant story. “Of course, if such a
charmer as Mrs. Markle wanted the attentions of a young man she could
have them without lifting an eyelash.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” insisted Josie. “Some men don’t fall for
so much beauty of face. They are on the lookout for beauty of soul.
Wonderful damask napkins she left! Did you look at the embroidered
initials? I hope I won’t scorch them. There is no telling what they are
worth. Each one is big enough for a tablecloth.”
“They are wonderful,” said Irene. “I never heard of anyone’s having
napkins laundered before the initials were embroidered, but it no doubt
is a good thing. Mrs. Markle certainly knows all about it. I have never
imagined such perfect work.” She sighed and dropped the lace she was
mending for a moment and picked up one of the napkins the closer to
scrutinize the regular stitches. Her magnifying glass was in her lap
and she gazed at the work through it.
“Why, Josie, come here!” she cried in some excitement. “This napkin
has had a piece cut out and a patch put in--one of Mrs. Markle’s
incomparable patches, but a patch for all that.”
“See if this one has too,” asked Josie, trying not to show the
excitement that she too felt.
“Yes, this one and this one and this one--all of them!” exclaimed Irene
in a puzzled tone. “Look, she has matched each thread and then made an
initial large enough to cover the patch almost entirely. I never saw
such clever work in my life--but why?”
“Perhaps she did not like the initial she first put there and cut it
out to put another,” suggested Josie, a twinkle asserting itself in her
eyes that she seemed to be trying to make opaque.
“The patches are not all the same size,” declared Irene, picking up
napkin after napkin and examining them carefully through her glass.
“What can it mean, Josie?”
“Well, I guess we can safely say we have found the other two napkins,”
whispered Josie. “They went to make the patches. Also someone besides
Hortense did the cutting. Clever Hortense! Not clever enough, however,
to get by with it! My father used to say that only the people who went
to work taking for granted that others were cleverer than they kept
out of the penitentiary. Hortense thinks I am a dullard and you a sweet
person who has taken a dislike to her and not to be worried about one
way or the other.”
“But what do you mean, Josie? Penitentiary--you can’t--”
“Yes, I can--but don’t tell Elizabeth--anybody in fact--we must catch
the whole bunch and, if we jump too soon, we may get only an innocent
bystander. I am going to call on you to help me if I need you.”
“What’s that you are not going to tell me?” asked Elizabeth. “This old
typewriter makes just enough noise to keep me from catching secrets.
Is it ice cream you are going to have up for lunch or are you going to
make me pay the gas bill? Is it a pleasant secret or otherwise?”
“Well, it may be both,” answered Josie. “I wasn’t going to tell you
because my father always said the more persons you took in on a case
the harder it was to get at the bottom of it. He thought they kind
of crowded each other when the business narrowed down to the final
outcome.”
“But I’m a partner here and if there is anything I might make use of in
the way of copy in the literary career I hope to follow, I think it is
mean not to tell me,” laughed Elizabeth.
“I guess you are right,” decided Josie. “I may get help from you girls
too. But mind not a word or look to a soul to let on you suspect a
thing! Swear!”
“We swear!” chorused Irene and Elizabeth in hollow excited tones.
Then Josie told them the whole thing from the beginning; told how she
had had some suspicion of the Markles because of something intangibly
mysterious about them; told of her visit to the chief of police and
the information he had given her concerning a chain of thefts being
committed all over the country; told of the mission she had had
confided to her before she reached Dorfield; told how she had been
confident of something being a bit fishy in Hortense’s not being
willing to take off the orchid pin and show it to Billy McGraw, for
the reason that it had the Tiffany mark on it, no doubt the initials
of his friend Mrs. Thomas. Then she made their blood run cold when
she described her first night in the Higgledy-Piggledy Shop and the
entrance of the Markles and their theft of the contents of the book.
“But, Josie, weren’t you scared to death?” asked Irene, her eyes big
at the thought. “I am not a timid person ordinarily, but I believe I’d
have died of fright when they came into the bedroom.”
“Well, I was a bit shaky, I must confess. Persons like the Markles
don’t like to kill because it is a low form of wit, but they will do it
just as a great humorist will occasionally pun if he can’t get his joke
over without it. I was determined to be the first to fire if there was
any firing to be done.”
There was nothing dull looking about Josie as she told her story to
her two friends and confederates. Had Hortense seen her then, no doubt
she would have changed her tactics in dealing with the daughter of the
famous detective.
“And now,” said Josie, “in conclusion, as the preachers say, we must be
ever watchful and never let on to a soul, man or beast, that we have
any suspicion of the Markles. What we know of them is not enough yet
to convict them and by waiting, watchful waiting, we may be able to
unearth the whole plot and bring a whole gang to justice.”
“It is a little hard on Mr. Dulaney to let him take off the notebook
full of blanks,” suggested Irene, a faint flush appearing on her cheeks.
“Yes, I know it is,” agreed Josie, “and I would not have done it except
I wanted to see what Hortense would look like when I allowed him to
have the precious book. Her face was a study. She has humor enough,
I rather like her for that, and there was an amused twinkle in her
eyes, relief also when I told the young man not to untie it just then.
I fancy there are times when anyone with such a speaking countenance
as the Markle has a hard time to appear indifferent. Her suggestions
concerning Mr. Dulaney were very slick. Of course if I had not known
all the time the book was full of blanks, I would naturally be inclined
to hold Mr. Dulaney responsible for such a state of affairs.”
“Yes, that is what I am afraid of,” said Irene, “afraid he may be
horribly embarrassed about it when he discovers the hoax.”
“There is danger of that, but I’ll do my best to make it up to him,”
answered Josie. “Of course he’ll get the scoop of his lifetime when we
finally nab the wretches. Such a scoop will more than repay him for a
temporary embarrassment.”
“Are you keeping Chief Lonsdale informed of what you are finding out?”
asked Elizabeth, who was beginning to feel that plots were hers for the
asking in the stories she meant to write.
“Not on your life! He’d have a bunch of bungling blue-coats snooping
around scaring off the game and taking all the final credit. No siree!
This is my party. Chief Lonsdale can put as many men as he’s a mind to
work digging up evidence, but I bide my time and go it alone. I don’t
see any of the detectives helping me any. Now I’m going to finish up
this lace before I give up for the day and deliver it to the rich old
lady. I saw Mrs. Markle looking at it with a practiced and covetous
eye. These people get to be regular kleptomaniacs when they stay in the
business long enough. She may be back here at midnight and lift the
whole shop.”
“Leave the key in the door so they can’t get the skeleton key in from
the outside,” suggested Irene.
“Mere keys and doors don’t worry such as the Felix Markles. They are
so clever with burglar tools there is no keeping them out if they want
to get in. Of course, if we lock fast the door there is still the
‘dumb-elevator’ as Danny calls it. Bar that fast, or cut the cables and
they will manage to come down from the floor above. The thing to do
is leave nothing here they want and let them know as much. I wish you
would drop in and make a short call at their apartment, Elizabeth, and
tell Hortense I am taking back the lace this evening. I must say I’ll
sleep better if she knows it is out of my keeping.”
“I’ll do that very thing. Now aren’t you glad you took me in your
confidence?”
“I wanted to all along but was trying to follow Father’s plans in going
it alone as much as possible.”
“I’d like to see the Markles’ faces when they finally decipher the
notes and read ‘The Hound of Heaven,’” said Irene. “What else was in
the notes?”
“Oh, long stanzas from ‘Paradise Lost,’ ‘Hamlet’s Soliloquy,’ and
pages from ‘Les Misérables’ in French. I don’t speak French at all
but I can read it quite well and Father wanted me to be able to take
notes in it, as sometimes we have to work with French detectives and
he thought it might be useful. Anyhow it was good practice. I copied a
lot about the convicts and a chapter on argot. They will have a grand
time reading it if they ever master the key. It is almost cruel for
me to fool them so when they might spend their time to so much better
advantage.”