_Another Robbery_
Mary Louise had three separate plans in view for the morning. First, she
would visit as many pawnshops as possible in the vicinity and ask to see
their displays of watches. Second, she meant to go to Strawbridge and
Clothier's department store and find out whether Margaret Detweiler had
worked there, and why and when she had left. And third, she wanted to
find some pretext to call on Miss Henrietta Stoddard in her own room and
observe her closely.
As she walked out of the dining room she met Mrs. Hilliard going towards
her little office on the first floor.
"Could I see you for a moment, Mrs. Hilliard?" she inquired.
"Certainly, my dear. Come into the office with me."
Mary Louise followed her into the room, but she did not sit down. She
knew how busy the hotel manager would be on Saturday morning.
"I have decided to visit some pawnshops, Mrs. Hilliard," she said. "I
have my own watch to identify, and I got a pretty good description of
Mrs. Weinberger's today. But I want you to tell me a little more about
the other things that were stolen."
"The silverware had an ivy-leaf pattern, and the initials 'S. H.'--for
Stoddard House--engraved on it," replied the woman. "The vase was an old
Chinese one, of an odd size, with decorations in that peculiar red they
so often use. I believe I can draw it better than I can describe it. But
I feel sure you'd never find it in a pawnshop. Whoever stole that sold it
to an antique dealer."
However, she picked up her pencil and roughly sketched the vase for Mary
Louise, giving her a good idea of its appearance. At the same time she
described the painting which had been stolen from Miss Granger's room--an
original by the American artist Whistler.
Mary Louise wrote all these facts in her notebook and kept the drawing.
"That's fine, Mrs. Hilliard," she said as she opened the door. "I'm going
out now, and I'll be back for lunch."
"Good-bye and good luck!"
Mary Louise went to her room, and from the telephone book beside her bed
she listed the addresses of all the pawnshops in the neighborhood. This
was going to be fun, she thought--at least, if she didn't lose her nerve.
She hesitated for a few minutes outside of the first shop she came to.
The iron bars guarding the window, the three balls in the doorway, seemed
rather forbidding. For Mary Louise had never been inside a pawnshop.
"I can say I want to buy a watch," she thought. "I do, too--I certainly
need one. But I'm afraid I'd rather have a brand-new Ingersoll than a
gold one that has belonged to somebody else. Still, I don't have to tell
the shopkeeper that."
Boldly she opened the door and went in.
She had expected to find an old man with spectacles and a skullcap, the
typical pawnbroker one sees in the moving pictures. But there was nothing
different about this man behind the counter from any ordinary
storekeeper.
"Good-morning, miss," he said. "What can I do for you today?"
"I want to look at ladies' watches," replied Mary Louise steadily.
The man nodded and indicated a glass case on the opposite side of the
shop. Mary Louise examined its contents intently.
"The fact is," she said, "my own watch was stolen. I thought maybe it
might have been pawned, and I'd look around in the shops first, before I
buy one, in the hope of finding it."
"Recently?"
"Yes. Last night."
The man smiled.
"If it had been pawned last night or this morning, you wouldn't find it
offered for sale yet. We have to hold all valuables until the time on
their tickets expires."
"Oh, of course! How stupid of me.... Well, could you tell me whether any
ladies' watches have been pawned here since midnight last night?"
"Yes, we've taken in two," replied the man graciously. "And I don't mind
showing them to you. I'm not in league with any thieves. I'm an honest
man."
"I'm sure of it," agreed Mary Louise instantly.
But she was disappointed upon sight of the watches. Neither of them was
hers, nor did either remotely resemble Mrs. Weinberger's or any of the
other three stolen from Stoddard House.
"Thank you ever so much," she said finally. "I think I'll look around a
little more and ask about my own, and if I can't find it, I may come back
and buy one of yours. Several of those you have are very pretty."
Thoroughly satisfied with her interview, she walked down the street until
she came to another shop. It was on the corner of an alley, and just as
she approached the intersection she noticed a woman in an old-fashioned
brown suit coming out of the side door of the pawnshop. The woman glanced
about furtively, as if she did not care to be seen, and caught Mary
Louise's eyes. With a gasp of surprise, the girl recognized her
immediately. It was Miss Henrietta Stoddard!
Before Mary Louise could even nod to her, the woman had slipped across
the street and around the corner, lost amid the Saturday morning crowd
that was thronging the busy street. Mary Louise repressed a smile and
entered the pawnshop by the front door.
She repeated her former experience, with this difference, however: she
did not find the shopkeeper nearly so cordial or so willing to
co-operate. Finally she asked point-blank what the woman in the brown
suit had just pawned.
"I can't see that that's any of your business, miss," he replied
disagreeably. "But I will tell you that it wasn't a watch."
Mary Louise wasn't sure that she believed him. But there was nothing that
she could do without enlisting the help of her father.
She visited four other shops without any success, and finally decided to
abandon the plan. It was too hopeless, too hit-or-miss, to expect to find
those watches by that kind of searching. Far better, she concluded, to
concentrate on observing the actions of the people at Stoddard House.
Especially Miss Henrietta Stoddard herself!
So she turned her steps to the big department store where she believed
Margaret Detweiler had worked till last Christmas and inquired her way to
the employment office. The store was brilliantly decorated for Christmas,
and crowds of late shoppers filled the aisles and the elevators, so that
it was not easy to reach her destination.
Nor was the employment manager's office empty. Even at this late date,
applicants were evidently hoping for jobs, and Mary Louise had to sit
down and wait her turn. It was half an hour later that she found herself
opposite the manager's desk.
Mechanically a clerk handed her an application to fill out.
"I don't want a position," Mary Louise said immediately. "I want to see
whether I can get any information about a girl named Margaret Detweiler
who, I think, worked in your store up to last Christmas. Would it be too
much trouble to look her up in your files? I know you're busy----"
"Oh, that's all right," replied the manager pleasantly, and she repeated
the name to the clerk.
"You see," explained Mary Louise, "Margaret Detweiler's grandparents
haven't heard from her for a year, and they're dreadfully worried.
Margaret is all they have in the world."
The clerk found the card immediately.
"Miss Detweiler did work here for six months last year," she stated. "In
the jewelry department. And then she was dismissed for stealing."
"Stealing!" repeated Mary Louise, aghast at such news. "Why, I can't
believe it! Margaret was the most upright, honest girl at home; she came
from the best people. How did it happen?"
"I remember her now," announced the employment manager. "A pretty,
dark-eyed girl who always dressed rather plainly. Yes, I was surprised
too. But she had been ill, I believe, and perhaps she wasn't quite
herself. Maybe she had doctor's bills and so on. It was too bad, for if
she had come to me I could have helped her out with a loan."
"Was she sent to prison?" asked Mary Louise in a hoarse whisper. Oh, the
disgrace of the thing! It would kill old Mrs. Detweiler if she ever found
it out.
"No, she wasn't. We found the stolen article in Miss Detweiler's shoe. At
least, one of the things she took--a link bracelet. We didn't recover the
ring, but a wealthy woman, a customer who happened to be in the jewelry
department at the time, evidently felt sorry for Miss Detweiler and
offered to pay for the ring. We didn't let her, but of course we had to
dismiss the girl."
"You haven't any idea where Margaret went--or what she did?"
"Only that this woman--her name was Mrs. Ferguson, I remember, and she
lived at the Benjamin Franklin Hotel--promised Miss Detweiler a job. So
perhaps everything is all right now."
"I hope so!" exclaimed Mary Louise fervently. And thanking the woman
profusely she left the office and the store.
But she had her misgivings. If everything had turned out all right, why
hadn't Margaret written to her grandparents? Who was this Mrs. Ferguson,
and why had she done this kindness for an unknown girl? Mary Louise meant
to find out, if she could.
She inquired her way to the Benjamin Franklin Hotel and asked at the desk
for Mrs. Ferguson. But she was informed that no such person lived there.
"Would you have last year's register?" she asked timidly. She hated to
put everybody to so much trouble.
The clerk smiled: nobody could resist Mary Louise.
"I'll get it for you," he said.
After a good deal of searching she found a Mrs. H. R. Ferguson registered
at the hotel on the twenty-third of the previous December, with only the
indefinite address of Chicago, Illinois, after her name. Margaret
Detweiler did not appear in the book at all: evidently she had never
stayed at the Benjamin Franklin Hotel.
With a sigh of disappointment, Mary Louise thanked the clerk and left.
Nothing had been gained by that visit.
"It must be lunch time," she decided, after glancing in vain at her
wrist, where she was accustomed to wear her watch. "I guess I'll go back
to the house."
The minute she entered the door of Stoddard House, the most terrible
commotion greeted her. A woman's shriek rang through the air; someone
cried out, "Catch her--she's fainted!" the elevator doors slammed, and
people appeared from everywhere, in wild confusion.
Mary Louise dashed through the door to the desk just in time to see Mrs.
Macgregor, the wealthy widow who lived in room 201, drop down on the
bench beside the elevator. Women pressed all around her prostrate figure:
guests, maids, Mrs. Hilliard, and the secretary, Miss Horton, who offered
a glass of water to the unconscious woman. But nobody seemed to know what
it was all about.
Presently Mrs. Macgregor opened her eyes and accepted a sip of the water.
Then she glared accusingly at Mrs. Hilliard.
"I've been robbed!" she cried. "Five hundred dollars and a pair of
diamond earrings!"