The Stranger
Madge waylaid Cara the following evening after school, fairly dragging
her down the street, so great was her hurry to get away from the
building.
“We’re going straight to the mansion,” she announced impressively.
Cara threw up her hands in a gesture of hopeless despair and stopped dead
in her tracks.
“Another brilliant idea! I see it coming on. Remember, you told me to
choke you if you ever had one again!”
Madge laughed.
“This idea is different and it doesn’t involve any digging. It’s worse
than that. I’m afraid Miss Swenster won’t consent. You must help me
convince her.”
In spite of herself, Cara’s curiosity was aroused.
“Convince her of what?”
“Come on,” Madge ordered, catching her by the hand and pulling her along.
“There isn’t time to explain now. You’ll hear everything when we reach
the mansion.”
Miss Swenster received them with her usual cordiality. Madge was so
excited that as she plumped herself down on the sofa, it was difficult
for her to begin. Briefly, she reviewed the facts already known to Miss
Swenster and Cara, then disclosed the new notation she had found in the
diary. She was a little disappointed to observe that neither appeared
greatly impressed.
“I don’t see just what you have in mind,” Miss Swenster confessed.
“Simply this! Uncle George Jackson had a hand in hiding the pearls. We
know the sundial had something to do with it too. Now, since the pearls
were hidden on the very day that the old Negro was mixing cement for the
sundial, it’s my contention that the necklace was hidden inside it,
probably in the pedestal!”
For a full minute, Miss Swenster digested this in silence. Then she said
quietly:
“It’s an interesting theory at least.”
Madge cast a glance of despair at Cara. Everything depended upon Miss
Swenster’s enthusiastic acceptance of the idea. She was even more
discouraged to see that her chum regarded her somewhat skeptically.
“Oh, I can tell you both think it’s another silly idea. But you must
admit it’s logical. If only we could have the sundial opened, I know we’d
find the pearls!” She arose, feeling that it was useless to add more.
Although Miss Swenster had said little, Madge could tell that she did not
care to have the sundial broken. Nor could she really blame her for the
dial was a beautiful piece of work.
“Wait!” Miss Swenster said firmly. “There may be something in what you
say. At least, we’ll find out.”
“You mean we may have the sundial cracked open?” Madge demanded eagerly.
Miss Swenster nodded.
“Yes, shall we go to the garden now and see what must be done to remove
the pedestal?”
She slipped a shawl over her shoulders as a protection against the fall
winds and the girls followed her outside.
“It’s my opinion the pearls are hidden in the base,” Madge declared as
they surveyed the sundial speculatively. “But it’s a shame to ruin the
pedestal unless we’re sure. Perhaps if we move it a trifle, we may hear
something rattling about inside.”
The three placed their shoulders to the pedestal, trying to lift it. The
sundial seemed rooted to the ground, so little would it give.
“It’s too heavy for us,” Miss Swenster said, wiping the dust from her
hands. “We must have it cracked open.”
“I know a man who is very reasonable in his charges,” Madge informed
quickly. “Occasionally, he does work for Uncle George.”
“Then go for him now if you wish. It grows dark very early these fall
days. If we are to accomplish anything today, we must lose no time.”
Madge was only too eager to take herself upon the errand. Since Cara, who
never enjoyed long walks, preferred to remain at the mansion with Miss
Swenster, she started off alone.
Silas Davies was the man she had in mind for the work. He was always glad
to pick up odd jobs, and in case the pearls were not found, she thought
she could trust him to maintain a discreet silence.
She had forgotten where he lived so stopped at a corner drug store to
consult a telephone directory. Finding that the house was only a short
distance away, she decided to go there instead of calling.
A few minutes later she knocked at the door of a neat, modest little
house on Bancroft Street. A woman answered, and Madge inquired if Mr.
Davies was home.
“He’s working for Mr. Ruggles today,” his wife returned regretfully. “But
I’m expecting him home in three quarters of an hour.”
“If he’s been working all day, I suppose it’s too late to get him to come
to the Swenster mansion,” Madge murmured in discouragement. “Miss
Swenster had a little job for him—it won’t take long but it’s dreadfully
important that it be done tonight.”
“Well, I can’t say how tired Mr. Davies will be. He makes a point of not
working after five but if it’s real urgent he may accommodate you. He’ll
be at the Ruggles place for another half hour. Why don’t you stop there
and see what he says?”
Madge thanked Mrs. Davies, deciding to follow the suggestion. It really
was urgent that the sundial be investigated that very afternoon. With
strangers prowling about the mansion at night, it was not safe to leave
anything to chance. If necessary, she was willing to pay Mr. Davies out
of her own pocket for the extra service.
She walked hurriedly toward the Ruggles residence, anxiously studying the
western horizon where the sun was sinking lower and lower. So absorbed
was she in her own thoughts that she failed to observe the approach of a
man who walked swiftly, with head low and chin thrust deeply in his coat
collar. Inevitably, they collided.
For a brief instant they were face to face. Involuntarily, Madge started,
and an exclamation scarcely above a whisper, escaped her.
It was the man she had seen many nights before prowling about in Miss
Swenster’s garden!