_A Prisoner in the Dark_
While Mary Louise waited for her chocolate to be served, she took the
copy of the letter from her handbag and read it again. The woman said she
was going to Florida. Oh, suppose her father should be too late to catch
her!
"But if Mrs. Ferguson really is a crook, why should she write all her
plans to a prisoner, when she would know that the letter would be
censored?" Mary Louise asked herself.
Her eyes narrowed. The woman had written the letter on purpose to deceive
them! She probably had no intention of going to Florida! Perhaps it was a
code letter.
Mary Louise recalled the Lindbergh case, in which the kidnaper had
written a letter to a prisoner in which the second word of every sentence
was a key, thus forming a message. She decided to try to discover
something like that for herself. She read the letter again:
_Dear Girls:_
_You poor girls! Meet your misfortune with this $500. U.S. justice is
terrible! In what other country would they detain innocent girls?_
_Baltimore is where I am now, but I am leaving immediately for a trip
to Florida. Margaret can't go with me on account of school. Will you
write to her? Get her address from the phone book._
_Treasure Island is playing at the movies, and we liked it a lot. From
my observation it is like the book. C. S. enjoyed it thoroughly. And so
did I. Bring me back the book if you go home for Christmas. It was mine
anyhow._
_Tonight I am packing. Baltimore is tiresome, and I'll be glad to
leave._
_Love,_
_Aunt Ethel._
On a page of her notebook Mary Louise wrote down each second word and
read the result to herself:
"Poor--your--courts--what--is--can't--her--island----"
"Shucks! That doesn't mean a thing!" she muttered in disgust. "I guess I
was crazy. But just the same, it does seem like a dumb sort of letter if
it hasn't some underlying meaning."
The waitress brought her chocolate in a lovely little blue pot, and the
whipped cream in a bowl. On a plate of the same set, dainty pink and
white cakes were piled.
"It's a good thing I'm not dieting," thought Mary Louise, as she poured
out a steaming cup of chocolate. "This certainly looks delicious!"
She wondered idly, as she finished her refreshments, whether she should
go to a picture show, just to put in her time. She wasn't exactly in the
mood for that kind of entertainment; her own life was too exciting at the
present moment to allow her to feel the need for fiction. So, while she
waited for her bill, she glanced again at the letter in her handbag.
"I might try the first word of each sentence," she thought. "To see
whether I could form a message that way. Though I should think that would
be too obvious.... Still, I'll see what happens."
She jotted down the opening word of each sentence on another page of her
notebook.
"You--meet--us--in--Baltimore--Margaret--will--get--treasure--from--
C.S.--and--bring--it--to--Baltimore."
It was all Mary Louise could do to keep from crying out in her joy. Of
course that was the answer! Pauline and Mary were to go to Baltimore. The
treasure, the stolen goods, must be in that house at C.S.--Center Square.
And "Margaret" would go there to get it!
Mary Louise no longer had any difficulty in deciding what to do with her
afternoon. She'd drive to Center Square as fast as she could--in order to
beat "Margaret" there. Oh, how she hoped that the "Margaret" referred to
was Margaret Detweiler!
Her hands actually trembled as she paid the bill, she was in such haste
to be off. She hadn't time to go back to the hotel and inform Mrs.
Hilliard of her plan. Later on she was to wish desperately that she had
taken that precaution.
Instead, she hurried to the agency and hired the same car she had driven
the previous day. Then she set off on the road which was by this time
becoming familiar.
It was after five o'clock when Mary Louise reached Center Square. The
twilight was deepening; already the short winter day was almost at a
close.
"I'll need a flashlight," she decided and she stopped in at a country
store to buy one.
When she came out of the store she drove directly to the abandoned house.
This time she did not want to take the constable with her, for he would
forbid her breaking into the place. Yet that was exactly what Mary Louise
meant to do, if she could not be admitted by knocking at the door!
She turned into the driveway, past the "No Trespassing" sign, mounted the
steep incline, and parked her car in an inconspicuous spot behind the
house and at the side of the barn.
"Here's hoping I don't get hit with a rock!" she thought recklessly, as
she jumped out of the car. The darkness was becoming deeper; the silence
was broken only by the moaning of the tree branches in the wind. The
place seemed completely deserted.
With her heart beating fast, Mary Louise ran to the back door of the
house and tried it. As she had anticipated, it was securely locked. A
moment later she encountered the same condition at the front door. At
both entrances she knocked loudly; at neither was there any response.
"Just the same, I'm going to get in!" she muttered resolutely. "If I have
to climb over the porch to a second-story window!"
She walked around the house again, more slowly this time, examining each
window as she passed it. Everywhere she found boards nailed over the
glass. On only one window at the side did she discover a partial opening.
It was the window through which she had seen the face of the young girl
with the ugly woman beside her.
Mary Louise's heart leaped up in joy. She could break through that glass
and get in!
The window which she was examining was at least three feet from the
ground, and two boards were nailed across the lower sash. But by standing
on a log which she dragged to the spot she was able to reach the upper
sash. With the aid of a stone she smashed the glass into bits.
It would have been easier to climb through the opening without her fur
coat, but Mary Louise felt sure that she would need its protection in the
damp, cold house. How thankful she was later on that she had not yielded
to her first impulse!
She accomplished the feat successfully, however, without even tearing her
clothing or breaking her flashlight, and stood on the floor of a room
which she soon identified as the dining room.
It was horribly cold and damp inside the house, but Mary Louise scarcely
noticed it at first. A thrill of excitement sent a pleasant glow through
her body. She was going to search for the treasure!
Keeping her flashlight turned on, she gave a quick glance about the room.
A table, half a dozen chairs, a sideboard of beautiful mahogany, and a
china-closet filled with lovely dishes comprised its furnishings.
"A good place to begin my search!" she decided, going straight to the
attractive sideboard and opening the drawer nearest the top. A luncheon
set of exquisite design greeted her eyes.
"Rather grand for a country place," she silently commented. "Let's see
what else we can find!"
A second drawer was entirely empty, but a third contained a full set of
silverware. Seizing a spoon in one hand, Mary Louise turned the
flashlight on it with the other. A wild cry of joy escaped her lips; the
spoon was decorated with an ivy-leaf pattern! Yes, and there were the
initials, too--S.H. (for Stoddard House, Mrs. Hilliard had
said)--engraved on the stem!
"So I know that I'm in the right place!" she couldn't help exclaiming
aloud in her triumph.
The sound of her own voice in the silent, dark house was strange; Mary
Louise found herself trembling. But only for a moment: courage and common
sense came to her rescue. Hastily she gathered all the silver together
and put it in a pile on the dining-room table.
"I may have to go out through the window again," she figured, "so I'll
leave my stuff here. But first I'll try the doors from the inside."
There, however, she met disappointment. There were no dead latches on the
doors; they were both locked securely, and the keys had been removed.
Now that she had familiarized herself with the plan of the house, she
decided to make a systematic search, beginning with the upstairs and
working her way down. Cautiously she ascended the wide stairway in the
hall to the second floor.
There were four bedrooms, she saw by the aid of her flashlight, and a
bathroom. A narrow staircase led to an attic above.
"I might as well begin with the attic," she thought, "and do the thing
thoroughly. That would be a natural place to hide things--especially if
there's a closet."
There was a huge closet, she soon discovered, besides two trunks, and all
sorts of odds and ends of furniture piled about the room. Naturally, Mary
Louise began her search with the trunks: to her delight she found them
unlocked.
"If I only have the same luck that I had in the dining room!" she wished
as she began to examine the trays.
Things had apparently been stuffed in hit-or-miss fashion: ribbons,
scarves, odd bits of costumes were all entangled together. Off in a
corner of the tray she found a heavy box which looked especially
inviting. Opening it excitedly she let out a wild whoop of joy. There was
jewelry inside!
But when she examined the articles one by one she experienced only
disappointment. There was nothing valuable in the whole collection; it
was merely "five-and-ten-store" stuff, which nobody would wear except to
a costume party.
"I might have expected that," she mused as she put the box back into the
tray. "If this trunk had had anything valuable in it, it would have been
locked."
Nevertheless, she resolved to make her search thorough and went through
both trunks, without any success. Then she directed her attention to the
closet.
This occupied a large space--almost as big as a small room--so that Mary
Louise found that she could easily enter it herself. It was horribly
chilly and damp; she shivered, and drew her coat more tightly around her
as she continued her task.
She was peering into a hat box when she suddenly heard a pounding on a
wall. She stopped what she was doing and listened intently. Where was the
noise coming from? Had someone come in? Was "Margaret" here, or had the
police come to arrest Mary Louise for housebreaking? Her hands shook and
she turned off her flashlight, waiting tensely in the darkness, while the
pounding continued. But she did not hear any footsteps.
The noise finally ceased, and, reassured at last, Mary Louise turned on
her flashlight and resumed her search. But the attic revealed nothing of
any importance, not even any loose boards in the walls or floor
underneath which the treasure might have been stored.
With a sigh of disappointment, Mary Louise descended the attic steps.
Entering the bedrooms one after the other and searching them carefully,
she encountered no better results. The bureaus were practically empty;
the beds contained only a blanket spread over each mattress, and though
Mary Louise felt around them with her hands for hard objects which might
be concealed, she found nothing.
Looking at her watch, she saw to her surprise that it was almost eight
o'clock. Supper hour was long past; because of her excitement, and on
account of her refreshments in the Philadelphia tea shop, she had not
felt hungry. But she was thirsty and was delighted to find running water
in the bathroom.
"I'm glad I don't have to climb out of that window to get a drink at the
pump!" she congratulated herself. And while she was there she
methodically searched the bathroom, again without any success.
"Why, here's an electric light button!" she exclaimed in surprise. "These
people must be rich--they have all the modern improvements. And I've been
using up my battery!"
But the light did not turn on; no doubt the current was cut off while the
people were away, and Mary Louise had to resort to her flashlight again.
"Because I started in the attic, the treasure will probably be in the
cellar," she concluded. "I hope my battery doesn't give out before I get
to it."
Nevertheless, she meant to proceed with the downstairs first, just as she
had planned. She would rather be there if "Margaret" arrived. Oh, how she
wished the girl would come! Especially if she proved to be Margaret
Detweiler.
The kitchen consumed a great deal of time, for she had to look in every
possible can and dish in the various closets. As she examined everything,
she was conscious of increasing hunger; she sincerely hoped that she
would find something she could eat. But her search revealed nothing
except some dry groceries: tea, sugar, salt, and spices. Moreover, the
stove was an electric one, useless without current. She could not even
heat water to make herself a cup of tea!
She was debating whether she should crawl out of the window and go to a
store for something to eat, or whether she should wait until she had
completed her task. It was just nine o'clock now; if she left the house
she might miss seeing Margaret and lose all chance of finding either the
girl or the treasure. But as she passed through the dining room from the
kitchen she saw immediately that her decision had been made for her. The
window through which she had crawled into the house had been boarded up
tightly! She was a helpless prisoner in this dark, lonely house!
So that was the explanation of the pounding which she had heard from the
attic closet! Oh, why hadn't she rushed down to see who was doing it? Now
what in the world could she do? If Margaret didn't come, she would have
to spend the night here--alone! And tomorrow was Christmas!
But suppose nobody came tomorrow--or the next day--or the next week!
Starvation, death from pneumonia, loneliness that would drive her
insane--all these grim horrors stared Mary Louise in the face.
Shivering with cold, she stood motionless in the dining room and tried to
think of some way out. It would be impossible for her to break down those
heavy wooden doors, and she knew nothing about picking locks. There
wasn't an unboarded window on the whole first floor, and even the windows
over the porch on the second floor were tightly nailed shut. Oh, what on
earth could she do?
"If only Max and Norman would come along now and give that familiar
signal!" she wished. But no sound disturbed the silence of the night;
even the wind had died, leaving a stillness like death all about her. She
felt buried alive in a doorless tomb.
"Nobody knows I'm here," she moaned. "Not even Mrs. Hilliard.
"I'll have to think of something," she decided, with a supreme effort to
keep herself in control. "In the meanwhile, I might as well finish my
search."
But even that satisfaction was denied to Mary Louise. In the doorway
between the dining room and the living room her flashlight went out. At
the most critical moment, when her courage was at the lowest ebb, the
battery had died!
A groan of agonized dismay escaped from her lips. In utter despair she
groped for a chair and sank down in it, miserable and defeated.
The impenetrable blackness of the room was overpowering, for she was used
to the lights of the streets in Philadelphia and in Riverside. A strange,
physical fear took possession of her, paralyzing her limbs; for several
minutes she sat still in the darkness, not even attempting to move.
A shiver ran through her; she was becoming colder and colder in this
damp, icy house. Her need for warmth stirred her to action. She rose
cautiously to her feet and groped her way to the hall, where she
remembered the stairway to be located, and without encountering any
serious knocks, she slowly ascended to one of the bedrooms.
Here the inky blackness still confronted her, but it was not so deep as
that of the first floor, for there was an unboarded window in the room.
Gradually, as she made her way towards it, Mary Louise could perceive its
outline. Most of the window was covered by the tree branches, but here
and there through the limbs she could distinguish patches of sky.
Yes--far off, and dim, but real, nevertheless--was one shining star!
"The Christmas star," she murmured. "Or at least--my Christmas star. For
it's the only one I'll see tonight."
There was something immensely comforting in its presence. The star
reassured her, it reminded her that God was still in His heaven, and she
was not forsaken. Tomorrow, Christmas morning, rescue would surely come!
So, after collecting all the blankets in the house on one bed, she took
off her coat and her hat and her shoes and lay down, drawing the squirrel
coat over her on top of the blankets. Cold and hunger and her dark prison
were forgotten in a blissful maze of unconsciousness. Mary Louise slept
until the sun of the strangest Christmas of her experience awakened her.