_Christmas Morning_
Christmas morning!
Mary Louise laughed out loud when she wakened amid the bleakness of her
surroundings in that empty house near Center Square. Oh, how different it
was from every other Christmas of her experience! No lovely fragrance of
evergreen, no warm fire, no cheery hot breakfast--no presents! But this
last fact worried her least of all. At the moment she believed she would
give up all the Christmas presents in the world for a plate of sausage
and hot cakes.
She felt a little stiff from sleeping in her clothing, but underneath the
blankets and her fur coat she had not suffered from the cold. And, oh,
how good it was to see the sun! To be able to walk around in a light
house--or a dimly lighted one, for even some of the second-story windows
were boarded up.
She shuddered at the fear that no one might come that day to rescue her,
that she might be subjected to another black night in this dismal place.
But with daylight to aid her perhaps she could find a way out for
herself, if no one came. She would try not to lose hope.
She got up and washed, thankful at least for the water in the house, and
she took a long drink. Then she remembered that there was tea in the
kitchen, and even though there was no way of heating the water, she could
make cold tea and add sugar. Perhaps the sugar would supply a little
energy.
With her fur coat buttoned up to her neck she cautiously descended the
stairway in the hall. Downstairs it was so dark that she could not even
see the outlines of the furniture until her eyes became accustomed to the
dimness.
"There must be candles in the kitchen," she surmised. "But I'm afraid it
will be too dark to find them."
She groped her way out to the kitchen, and fumbled around until she
touched the dresser.
"I'd never be able to tell which is sugar and which is salt," she
thought. "Except that I can taste anything I happen to find."
However, that proceeding might not prove to be so good, she decided, for
she had no desire to taste kitchen cleanser or rat poison, for instance.
No, it would be better to do without than to take any risks, just for the
sake of a cup of cold tea!
As she cautiously ran her hand along the bottom shelf of the dresser, her
fingers encountered something decidedly rough. For a moment she was
puzzled, until she could identify the object. But in a moment she
recognized it. Sandpaper, of course! Sandpaper on the outside of a box of
matches.
Her pulse quickened as she picked up the box, and found that it was full.
This was luck indeed! She struck a match at once, and began to hunt
feverishly for candles. But she wasted three matches without finding a
single one.
"I can have my cold tea, anyway," she thought, and with the aid of a
single match she located tea and sugar and a cup. The sink was right
beside the dresser, and she ran cold water over the tea leaves.
"Merry Christmas, Mary Lou!" she finally said aloud, as she drank the
cold tea through closed teeth, to avoid swallowing the leaves.
She felt chillier than ever after she had finished it, but not quite so
weak and empty. Lighting another match she made her way into the living
room.
"Wouldn't it be wonderful if there were an open fireplace all piled up
with wood!" she mused, as she entered the room.
There was a fireplace, she found, but it was totally empty. On a shelf
over it, however, she came upon a discovery which she had overlooked the
previous night. There, right in the middle of the mantelpiece, stood a
Chinese vase of the very design which Mrs. Hilliard had described!
"Maybe if I look around I'll find Miss Granger's painting," was her next
hope.
She examined the picture over the fireplace--a cheap hunting scene--and
was just about to turn away when she made another find which brought a
whoop of joy to her lips. In plain view, at each end of the shelf, stood
two tall, red candles!
When Mary Louise had lighted one of these she felt suddenly like a
different girl. It was amazing what a change one steady little gleam of
light could make. But she was frugal enough to burn only one of them; if
she had to spend another night in this house she would not need to be in
complete darkness.
There was an upright piano at the other side of the room; Mary Louise
stepped over and sat down on the stool in front of it.
"I'll play a Christmas carol, just to celebrate!" she decided, and struck
the opening chords of "O come all ye faithful."
She stopped abruptly. "What a terrible rattle!" she exclaimed. "These
people must throw their tin cans into the piano when they finish with
them!"
She stood up and examined the top with her candle. Lifting up the hinged
half, she peered down into the space beneath. Instantly she perceived a
gray flannel bag hanging on the end of one of the keys as if someone had
deliberately hidden it there.
She snatched it off excitedly, delighted to find that it was heavy. No
doubt it contained something metallic, which had been the cause of the
jangling of the piano keys. With trembling fingers she pulled open the
string and dumped the contents of the bag upon a chair.
Diamond rings, bracelets, earrings, watches, and gold necklaces dropped
out before her astonished eyes. A fabulous treasure, such as one reads
about in fairy tales or sometimes dreams of finding! Color came to Mary
Louise's cheeks, and her heart raced wildly as she examined the articles
one by one to make sure that they were genuine.
Mrs. Weinberger's old-fashioned timepiece ornamented with diamonds was
there--and Mary Louise's own dainty little wrist watch, engraved with her
name in the back of it. Oh, what a joy it was to have it again! She
clasped it affectionately about her wrist.
Leaving the jewelry on the chair, she peered into the piano again to see
what else she could find. She was rewarded with another discovery. Down
in a corner, in a remote spot, she saw a small package wrapped in brown
paper. She encountered some difficulty in prying it loose, but at last
she had it free. Stripped of its brown-paper wrapping, she found that she
held a fat wad of bills in her hand!
"Mrs. Macgregor's money!" she thought immediately. "And Miss
Granger's--and my own five dollars!"
How wonderful it all was! To be able to return the possessions to the
rightful owners at Stoddard House! To have proof enough now to convict
Mrs. Ferguson and her band of thieves! To collect her salary from Mrs.
Hilliard and go home--in time for Max's senior dance!
If--only--she could get out of this house!
A feverish sense of impatience took possession of Mary Louise. It was
cruel, she stormed, that in her hour of triumph she should be imprisoned
alone in a dark house. Wouldn't somebody miss her and come to her rescue?
Where was her father? Why hadn't he driven out here to Center Square when
he returned to Stoddard House last night--and had found her missing?
But suppose--awful thought--that he had not returned! Suppose he had
missed finding Mrs. Ferguson and had been deceived by that letter of hers
into pursuing the woman to Florida! Mrs. Hilliard would conclude that he
had taken her--Mary Louise--with him, when neither returned!
A trip to Florida, Mary Louise figured, might consume almost a week.
While she waited alone in this dark, cold house, each day itself an
eternity of hunger and loneliness and suffering!
A hollow laugh escaped her lips as she glanced at the money and the
valuables heaped on the chair beside her. They were as little use to her
now as Midas's gold. They would neither feed her nor keep her warm.
"There's no use hoping for release by somebody else," she told herself.
"I'll have to work out a way by myself. I'll have to be a modern Count of
Monte Cristo!"
She stood up and gathered her treasure together again into the bag and
took the Chinese vase from the mantelpiece. Another tour of the room
revealed the Whistler picture in a dark corner. With the aid of her
half-burnt candle, she carried everything to the dining room and placed
it all in a pile beside the silverware.
"I'll hide the money inside my dress and the jewelry in my coat pocket.
These other things I'll drop into that wood-basket I saw in the kitchen."
When she had finally completed her packing she sat down in the dining
room to think.
"I believe I'll try to get out the same way I got in," she decided.
"Because the glass is already broken in that window. All I'll have to do
will be to cut my way through the new boards which that caretaker--or
whoever he was--hammered on last night."
With this purpose in view, Mary Louise carried her candle into the
kitchen. The drawer in the dresser revealed a poor selection of knives;
it might take days to cut through a board with only these as tools.
Nevertheless, she meant to try. Anything was better than idleness.
Selecting what appeared to be the sharpest in the collection, she
returned to the window in the dining room. But she realized immediately
that her scheme would not work. The boards were too close together; it
would be impossible to insert a knife between them at any place.
"I guess I'll have to smash that bedroom window and jump out," she
thought gloomily. "It would probably mean a broken neck, but that's
better than a slow, lingering death."
She pulled the dresser drawer farther out, looking idly for some other
implement to facilitate her escape. Suddenly her eyes lighted upon a
hammer. Not a very large hammer, but adequate enough for the task. Why
hadn't she thought of that plan before? It would be lots easier to hammer
those boards loose than to try to cut through them with a knife.
She picked it up out of the drawer and paused abruptly. There was a
slight sound in the front of the house, like the click of a key in a
lock. Extinguishing her candle, she waited breathlessly till she heard
the front door open. Someone stepped cautiously into the hall!
Mary Louise's heart stood still in her excitement. Who was the intruder?
Was it the Margaret whom Mrs. Ferguson had mentioned in her letter, or
was it the woman herself? Whoever it was, was he or she armed with a
revolver?
Much as Mary Louise longed to find Margaret Detweiler, she dared not take
a chance now of coming face to face with an unknown person in this dark
house, since all the valuables were in her possession. Her only desire at
the moment was for escape. Silently she moved towards the door of the
kitchen which led directly into the hall.
She heard the newcomer go into the living room, and as Mary Louise crept
past the doorway she saw the gleam of a flashlight. But the person,
whoever it was, was hidden from her view, and Mary Louise did not wait to
find out who it was. She reached the front door in safety and found the
key still reposing in the lock.
A second later she removed the key and slipped out of the door into the
clear, cold sunshine. She was free at last!
And with a chuckle of triumph she inserted the key on the outside of the
door and turned it, imprisoning the intruder, just as she herself had
been imprisoned for the last sixteen hours!