_Two Captures_
For one ecstatic moment Mary Louise stood motionless on the front porch,
breathing the cold, delicious air of freedom. Then she ran around the
side of the house to the rear to look for her car.
At first she thought it was gone, for she could not see it, huddled up
close to the barn. But a few steps more revealed it to her view, and,
weak as she was, she darted forward eagerly.
She decided that she would drive directly to the hotel and have some
breakfast; afterwards she would inquire her way to the constable's house.
He could take charge of the valuables in her possession and go back with
her to meet the intruder. For Mary Louise had no intention of returning
to Philadelphia without first learning that person's identity.
Besides, she had forgotten to bring out with her the basket containing
the vase and the picture and the silverware. No use going back to
Stoddard House without the entire loot!
She climbed into the car and put her foot on the starter--without any
success. She pulled out the choke and tried again and again. Five minutes
passed. She made one final effort, in vain. The car was frozen!
Despair seized her; she did not know what she could do. In her weakened
condition, cold and hungry as she was, she did not believe herself
physically capable of walking to the hotel. The distance must be at least
a mile, although it had seemed so short by automobile.
She got out of the car and silently walked back to the front porch of the
house, listening for sounds from the prisoner locked within its walls.
But she heard nothing until she reached the driveway. Then a young man
stepped from behind a tree and almost frightened her to death.
He was a tough-looking fellow of about nineteen or twenty, she judged, in
slovenly corduroy trousers, a dirty lumber jacket, and cap. He eyed her
suspiciously; Mary Louise forced herself to meet his gaze, although she
was trembling so that she had to keep her hand on the jewelry in her
pocket to prevent its rattling.
The young man edged up nearer to her.
"You one of Mrs. Ferguson's girls?" he demanded.
"Yes, I know her," replied Mary Louise. "I----"
"You been in the house now?"
"Yes," admitted Mary Louise.
"Anything gone?"
"No, I don't think so."
"That's lucky," remarked the young man. "I come around last night about
six o'clock, same as I do every night, and I seen a window was broke on
the side of the house. But I didn't see nobody prowlin' around, so I just
nailed a board across it. I'm still watchin' fer that guy that come in a
car. You kin tell Mrs. Ferguson he ain't come back yet."
"What guy?" inquired Mary Louise, feeling more at ease now, since this
young man evidently regarded her as one of Mrs. Ferguson's gang of girls.
"That fellow that drove up here last Sunday night," was the reply.
"Didn't Mrs. Ferguson tell you?"
"I haven't seen Mrs. Ferguson to talk to," she stammered, hardly able to
keep from laughing.
"Well, this guy meant trouble, I'm a-thinkin'. He drove up here in a car
with a dame alongside of him. I hid in a tree when I heard the car
comin', and when it was under the tree I dropped a rock on the dame's
head. Knocked her out, and the guy had to rush her off to a doctor."
"Suppose you had killed her!" exclaimed Mary Louise solemnly.
"I ain't supposin'. Besides, nobody knows I done it except Mrs. Ferguson
and you girls, and if any of you dames tell on me, I've got plenty to
tell on you!"
"No doubt about that," agreed Mary Louise. "Well, I must be getting on.
I'm going to the hotel for breakfast."
"How about my money?" demanded the young man. "Mrs. Ferguson wrote me
you'd be along today and said you'd pay me. She promised me ten bucks."
This announcement scared Mary Louise; she didn't know whether she should
pay the man or not, in order to keep up the pretence that she was a
member of the secret band. If she refused, mightn't he knock her down?
Yet if she complied with his demand and let him see the roll of bills,
what would prevent his stealing them all at once?
However, a solution came to her mind, and she decided to risk it.
"I haven't more than five dollars in my purse," she said, opening it and
showing him the contents. "I'll have to pay you when I get back, after I
have something to eat. I'm starved--I didn't have any supper last night."
"O.K.," agreed the young man, to Mary Louise's surprise. "Meet me here in
an hour?"
"Yes, just about," returned Mary Louise, hurrying down the driveway.
The minute she reached the road, out of sight of the house, Mary Louise
started to run, and she kept on running for perhaps a couple of minutes.
Then she stopped abruptly, dropping down on the cold, hard ground. She
was so faint, she did not believe that she could take another step.
"Oh, I must get there!" she panted. "I must--must--must----"
But the main highway was not even in sight: only the long, desolate
country road before her, without a sign of a person or a house.
She staggered somehow to her feet and took two or three steps forward.
Utterly exhausted, she sank again to the ground.
"A lot of good all my discoveries will do me or the people of Stoddard
House," she mused bitterly, "if I pass out here on the road!"
She made another effort to rise, but she was growing colder and weaker
every minute. In utter dismay she buried her head in her arms.
A sense of numbness began to creep over her as she sat there; she was
losing consciousness of where she was when the sharp sound of a motor
horn aroused her to her senses.
A car stopped opposite her; for one tense second she was afraid to look
up for fear the occupants were some of Mrs. Ferguson's gang. When a
pleasant masculine voice addressed her, she felt the tears rush to her
eyes in relief.
"What is the trouble, my girl?" inquired the man. "Can I help you?"
Reassurance and an overwhelming sense of gratitude almost prevented Mary
Louise from answering. The man with the kind voice was someone she could
trust: she saw by his manner of dressing that he was a Catholic priest.
"Oh, yes!" she replied. "Can you take me to the constable? Do you know
where he lives?"
"Yes, of course I can." It was an odd request, but the good man asked no
questions. He merely got out of his car and lifted Mary Louise in beside
him.
"I'd tell you the story--only I'm so cold and hungry," she said.
"Maybe--later----"
"That's all right, my child," he replied soothingly.
In less than five minutes he stopped his car in front of a plain brick
house and helped Mary Louise to the doorway.
"Merry Christmas, Hodge!" he said, when the door was opened to his knock.
"This young lady----"
"Merry Christmas, Father," returned the constable, gazing at Mary Louise.
Almost instantly he recalled who she was. "Come in, Miss Gay," he said.
"Oh, how can I ever thank you enough?" said Mary Louise, fervently to the
priest. But the good man only smiled and departed as quickly as he had
appeared.
The smell of coffee, of breakfast--for it was only a little after nine
o'clock--was overpowering to the hungry, exhausted girl. She sank into a
chair with only one cry on her lips: "Coffee!"
Before the constable could even ask her a question, his wife hurried from
the dining room with a steaming cup in her hands. She was a motherly
woman of about forty-five; three children immediately followed her into
the living room to see who the stranger was who had arrived so
mysteriously.
"Drink this, dear," said Mrs. Hodge, holding the cup to Mary Louise's
lips. "I put cream and sugar in it, so it won't burn you."
Nothing in her life had ever tasted half so good to the cold, hungry girl
as that fragrant cup of coffee. She finished it to the last drop, and a
smile broke over her face.
"Was that good!" she exclaimed. "Oh, how much better I feel!"
"You must have some breakfast now," urged Mrs. Hodge. "Don't crowd around
Miss Gay so closely, children! She needs room to breathe."
"I'm all right now--really," said Mary Louise. The warmth of the room was
working its magic spell; for the first time now she noticed the Christmas
tree and the toys around the floor.
"I've been locked up alone in that empty house of Mrs. Ferguson's since
five o'clock last night----" she began. But Mrs. Hodge refused to let her
talk until she had eaten her breakfast.
Mary Louise ate everything that was on the table: a steaming bowl of
oatmeal, an orange, half a dozen hot-cakes, two pieces of sausage, a
glass of milk, and another cup of coffee. When she had finally finished
she said that she believed she had enjoyed that breakfast more than any
meal she had ever had.
The whole family listened while she briefly told her story. Beginning
with the code letter which had directed her to Center Square, she
explained how she had broken into the empty house and how she had been
imprisoned by a man who was evidently in Mrs. Ferguson's employ.
"He admitted hitting me--only of course he didn't know it was I--over the
head last Sunday. He thinks I'm one of Mrs. Ferguson's gang. So will you
go back with me and arrest him, Constable Hodge?" she asked.
"I sure will," agreed the man, and he told one of his children to run
across the yard to get a neighbor to help him.
"I found the stolen goods," concluded Mary Louise, reaching into her
dress and producing the roll of bills and taking the bag of jewelry from
her pocket. "Will you take charge of it till I can bring my father up to
get it? He's a detective too, you see."
Everyone gasped in amazement at the heap of valuables which Mary Louise
displayed before their eyes. The children rushed forward excitedly, and
the young detective saw no reason why they should not examine them to
their hearts' content. One of the boys even wanted to count the money.
"But how did you get out of that house?" demanded the constable. "Did
that man open the door for you?"
"Oh no," replied Mary Louise. "A member of Mrs. Ferguson's gang came with
a key. I slipped out and locked her inside. That's why we must hurry
back, to catch her before she escapes."
Mary Louise rose from her chair.
"Can we go now, Constable?" she asked.
"Certainly. Yep, here comes my neighbor, who often helps me make arrests.
We'll take him along in case your man or your prisoner gets uppish."
"Could we take a mechanic to fix my car, too?" she asked. "It's frozen."
"One of the kids will phone to the garage right now to send somebody
out."
They gathered up the treasure, and, leaving it in Mrs. Hodge's care, Mary
Louise, the constable, and the neighbor--a husky six-foot fellow--got
into the car. The distance which had seemed so long to the girl an hour
ago was covered in less than five minutes.
At the turn into the driveway, Mary Louise saw the man who was waiting
for her. Recognizing the constable at once, he made a quick dash to get
away. But he was not fast enough: the constable was out of the car in a
second, commanding him to stop and displaying his revolver. With an oath
on his lips he surrendered.
The constable's big friend took charge of him while Mary Louise and the
officer entered the dark, cold house. The moment they opened the door
they heard a girl's terrified sobs from the living room.
"Who--are--you?" she called, in a voice choking with fear and misery.
"The Constable of Center Square and Mary Louise Gay!" replied the young
detective.
The prisoner jumped to her feet and ran out to the open door.
"Mary--Louise--Gay!" she repeated incredulously, bursting afresh into
tears.
But Mary Louise had identified her immediately. She was Margaret
Detweiler!