The Mahogany Desk
The girls had reached the Wayne home. It was nearly supper time but Cara
would not allow Madge to escape without relating all there was to know
concerning Miss Swenster’s adopted son. They sat down on the front steps.
“Last night I asked Uncle George if he knew why John Swenster left town,”
Madge explained. “Of course, it was a wild shot in the dark, for I never
dreamed he could tell me. Well, it seems he was one of the few persons in
Claymore who really knew the inside story.”
“What luck! Tell me what he said.”
“It seems that the boy never did amount to a great deal. He must have had
bad heredity. Anyway, Miss Swenster took him from an orphan’s home. She
gave him every advantage, sending him away to school and later trying to
establish him in business.”
“That’s probably where a lot of her money went,” Cara observed sagely.
“Yes, she wasted plenty on him. He never appreciated it. He was always
getting into one scrape or another. Then one day he up and forged a check
for over a thousand dollars! Uncle George was a director in the First
National bank where the matter came up. That’s how he happened to know
all about it.”
Cara looked aghast at the news.
“And did they send him to prison?”
“No, Miss Swenster offered to pay the amount of the forged check, and the
person whose name had been used, agreed not to prosecute. Her son left
town and soon after that Miss Swenster closed up the old mansion.”
“I suppose it broke her heart to have him turn out so badly,” Cara mused.
“And when she was having financial troubles of her own it must have been
hard for her to raise the money.”
“Yes, it was unfortunate all around,” Madge agreed, getting up from the
steps. “I must dash home now or I’ll be late for supper. See you
tomorrow.”
The girls did not go to the Swenster mansion the following day or the
next. Their evenings were spent cramming for month-end examinations which
always were a trial, even to Madge who stood high in her classes.
Then one day, the girls noticed a brief advertisement in the daily paper,
announcing that on the tenth of October, the Swenster mansion and all its
furniture would be sold at public auction. It reminded them that if they
intended to make another search for the missing pearls, they must be
about it.
Saturday morning found them on their way to the mansion. It was a crisp,
fall day, the first really cold one of the season. Madge’s eyes were very
bright and she was so gay that she fairly skipped along the street.
“What ails you?” Cara demanded. Then as she noticed a white envelope
protruding from her friend’s sweater pocket: “Ha! I’ll bet a cent it’s
from that ranger of yours up at Loon Lake! He writes you twice a week,
doesn’t he?”
“He does not!” Madge denied, blushing furiously. “Jack has more important
things to do than write letters.”
“Oh, you needn’t pretend, Madge Sterling. You know you like him. That’s
why you’ll not even look at any of the boys here in Claymore.”
“Certainly I like Jack. Why shouldn’t I? He’s a good friend and—”
She looked somewhat nettled as Cara burst forth in a gale of exaggerated
laughter.
“All right, laugh! But unless I’m most horribly mistaken I saw you in
Rexall’s Drug Store last night lapping up a soda and listening moon-eyed
while Fred King gave a running report of last week’s football game.
You—who can’t be dragged near the stadium!”
“I only try to be a polite listener,” Cara said cheerfully. “Let’s call
it quits.”
They smiled, and linking arms, hurried on to the mansion. Miss Swenster
was delighted to see them again for she had begun to fear that she had
offended them during their last visit.
“I’m so glad you came,” she greeted them. “After today, everything will
be turned topsy-turvy since the furniture must be arranged for the sale.”
Miss Swenster spoke cheerfully of the approaching auction, but the girls
realized that she was hiding her real feelings. In little ways, more by
look and gesture than by words, she had disclosed that she disliked to
see her old home sold.
There really was no immediate work to be done save dusting, which Miss
Swenster declared unnecessary. However, the girls armed themselves with
dust cloths and roamed about over the house.
“We’ll do more looking than dusting,” Madge assured Miss Swenster. “This
may be our last chance to search for the pearls. Wouldn’t it be grand if
we found them?”
“It would be marvelous! But I really have no faith that you’ll locate
them. As I said before, I fear you’re searching for something that never
existed.”
“There’s one place we haven’t looked,” Madge said, “and that’s the attic.
May we go up there?”
“Of course. I was cleaning out some of the rubbish today, but the old
furniture is still there. The pieces are really worthless and I doubt if
I’ll even put them up at the sale.”
The girls were moving up the stairway, when Miss Swenster called them
back.
“Oh, one thing more. Your prowler has returned. Last night I heard a
noise in the garden. I went to the window just in time to see a man
hurrying out the back gate.”
“Weren’t you afraid?” Cara asked.
Miss Swenster shook her head. “No, only curious. I can’t imagine what he
can be after. If I see him again, I shall call the police.”
After asking a few questions, the girls went on upstairs to the attic. It
was a large, roomy affair with only one small window high above their
heads.
“Ug!” Cara emitted as she brushed against a cobweb. “I don’t care for
this place.”
She became more enthusiastic as she noted an interesting array of boxes,
old chests, and discarded furniture. It was fun to dig into things. Madge
discovered a Paisley shawl which she insisted was a treasure and Cara
found a beautiful woven coverlet stored away with old clothing. But there
was not so much as a clue to the whereabouts of the Swenster pearls.
At last, grimy and tired, the girls returned to the living room, bearing
their plunder.
“I had even forgotten I owned such things,” Miss Swenster declared when
they showed her the shawl and the coverlet. “My grandmother wove that
spread herself. And the shawl was brought over to this country so many
years back that I’ve forgotten the exact date. Dear me, how I shall hate
to dispose of them.”
“Must you?” Madge asked.
“I can’t very well keep them. I have saved out so many treasures now that
I’ll not have places to store them. I know! You girls must accept them as
gifts! I’ll give Madge the shawl and Cara the coverlet.”
Miss Swenster refused to listen to their protests. In the end they
thanked her profusely for the generous gifts, promising they would take
good care of them. Both were proud to own such treasures. They were eager
to return home to display their prizes, but first they insisted upon
doing the dusting which they had started hours before.
Miss Swenster again assured them it was unnecessary. Nevertheless, they
went about it in business-like fashion, working vigorously. Soon only the
study remained.
“Shall we dust in there?” Madge inquired, not wishing to repeat the
mistake previously made.
“Why, yes, if you like,” Miss Swenster returned with only the slightest
hesitation.
Entering the study, the girls looked with one accord toward the place
where John Swenster’s picture had hung. A bright square of wallpaper
marked the former spot. Miss Swenster had not replaced the picture.
“I wonder what she did with it?” Cara whispered.
Madge shook her head, raising a finger to her lips in mute warning that
Miss Swenster could easily hear from the next room.
They silently went about the dusting, bent upon getting it done as
quickly as possible. Cara directed her attention to the bookcases while
Madge made an attack upon the paneled mahogany desk. She dusted the top
and polished off the curved legs. Then her cloth swept across one of the
panels.
Madge heard a sharp click. To her amazement, the panel dropped down,
revealing a small opening!