 CHAPTER I THE BURNT BUNGALO FOR THE WHOLE MONTH? Jane Patterson's eyes sparkled with anticipation as she repeated the invitation her chum had just extended. Yes, replied Mary Louise Gay, you see we never could invite you before because the bungalow is so small and there's just room enough for our own family, but dad will be out west all of August, he doesn't expect to be back until Labor Day. On a case, inquired Jane, for Mr. Gay was a detective on the police force. Mary Louise nodded, yes, an important one, I almost wish I could go with him, it sounds so thrilling. Didn't you have enough excitement and mystery at dark cedars? demanded Jane. I never have enough, returned the other girl. Well, please don't dig up anything to spoil our vacation at Shady Nook. Still, I don't really suppose you could if you tried, the very name implies peace. It is a peaceful spot, agreed Mary Louise, not a bit like Big Summer Resort. Just the mountains and the woods and the lovely Hudson River, only half a dozen bungalows so that everybody knows everybody else, it's also friendly and nice. Then I shan't need any fancy clothes, like dance dresses. Jane's tone held a faint note of disappointment, she loved outdoor sports, but she was equally fond of parties. You better take a couple along, replied the other girl. Across the river from Shady Nook there's a big modern hotel where we often go for dinners and dances. Everybody wears their best clothes there, but most of the time we eat at Flix Inn. It's just a bigger bungalow where they have a dining room for the Shady Nook people and a few boarders, very nice and informal. Jane jumped up and started down the steps, across the lawn that separated the gaze house from the Patterson's. I must go tell Mother all about it, she explained, and begin to get my clothing ready. What time do we start? Seven o'clock tomorrow morning, rain or shine. After alone Mary Louise opened the screen door and went into her own house. Her father, with his suitcase on the floor beside him, was saying goodbye to her mother and to his young son Joseph, whom everybody called freckles. Mr. Gay put his hand upon his daughter's shoulder and said to his wife, I'm counting on Mary Louise to take care of you, dear. After the way she mastered that situation at Dark Cedars, I feel that she is capable of almost anything, far above and beyond most girls of sixteen. She is, agreed Mrs. Gay proudly, but I'm not expecting any trouble at Shady Nook. I'm more worried about what may happen to you before you catch those criminals. I'll be all right, her husband assured her. Wire for me if you need me, and I'll come back by airplane. Mrs. Gay nodded, little thinking that she would have to follow his advice before the month was over. As soon as he was gone the other three members of the family returned to the business of packing. Silky, Mary Louise's little brown spaniel, trotted around after them, sniffing at everything and looking serious and important, as if he were doing most of the work. I'm thankful your father left us the car, remarked Mrs. Gay, as the suitcases and packages were piled up near the back door. We'll need it. Shady Nook is so far from the junction, added Mary Louise. Yes, we're lucky, and isn't it nice I have my license so you won't have to drive all the way? It certainly is, agreed her mother. You've always been a big help to me, Mary Louise, and so have you, freckles, she added to the boy. At last everything was finished in time to allow them all a good sleep before their trip. Shady Nook was almost a day's journey from Riverside, if they took it in a leisurely manner, driving slowly enough to enjoy the beautiful Hudson River and stopping at noon at some pleasant end to eat lunch and rest. Jane was on hand early, helping the gays to stack the luggage in the back seat and on the rack provided at the rear of the car. Don't forget to leave a corner for Silky, freckles reminded the girls. He can't be left behind. As if I could forget him, returned his sister, picking up the little spaniel and giving him a hug. Didn't he save our lives that night we rode in Harry Grant's car? Jane shuddered. She could never forget the horror of that dark night or the terror she had experienced when the tramp commanded, hands up. Good old Silky, biting a piece of that thug's leg while the girls made their escape. Who's driving first? She asked as the last bundle was stored away. I am, answered Mary Louise. You and Silky in front with me, and mother and freckles in back. We'll shift places after lunch. It was a lovely clear day, not so hot as it often is in August, and the whole party was in the gayest of spirits. Mary Louise loved to drive, and she did it well. She would not have minded if she had been kept at the wheel all day. Nevertheless, after their pleasant lunch at a quaint little tea room on the roadside, she was perfectly willing to exchange places with her mother and enjoy the better opportunity to look at the scenery. Jane, however, was more interested in shady nook than in the country through which they were passing. She asked innumerable questions. How many bungalows did you say there are, Mary Lou? She inquired. There were six last year, counting flicks in, but I understand that there were two new ones put up this spring. And are there plenty of young people? Not so many at the cottages, but it doesn't matter because we have just as much fun with the middle-aged people. Everybody swims in paddles and dances in place tennis. Besides, there are always extra young people boarding at flicks for shorter vacations, and sometimes we meet the people at the Royal Hotel. Is that where they hold the dances, inquired Jane, when we wear our flossy dresses? Yes, that's the place across the river from Shady Nook. Tell me some of the people's names, urged Jane. Well, next door to us, only. It really isn't next door because there's quite a little woods between. It's the loveliest cottage at Shady Nook. It was built by a man named Hunter, who was very rich. He bought all the land around there on our side of the river, and sold it to people he knew and liked. But he died last year, so only his wife and son came back this summer. A son, repeated Jane, rolling her eyes. Not a babe in arms, I hope. A sophomore at Yale, replied Mary Louise. Rather homely, but awfully nice, and piles of fun. What's the youth's name? There you go, putting him down in your notebook already. His name's Clifford, we all call him Cliff. Naturally, but if he's your property, Mary Lou, just say the word and I'll keep off. Mary Louise laughed. Nobody's my special property, she said. Not even Max Miller, she added, mentioning her particular boyfriend in their hometown of Riverside. Though he sometimes acts as if he believed I were his. I let Cliff Hunter a lot. Everybody does, but we don't pair off much at Shady Nook, except sometimes to go canoeing. Most of the time, we're just one big family. Who else are there besides the Hunters? inquired the other girl. I mean, what are their families with young people? The Reads are about the jolliest family at Shady Nook, answered Mary Louise. There are five children, and the father and mother are just as much fun as the kids. The two oldest girls, Sue and Mabel, are twins about our age, 17, I believe, to be exact. Then there are two younger boys that Freckles chums up with, and a little girl. I'm afraid I'll never be able to keep all those names straight, sighed Jane. Wait till we get there, and you meet them one at a time, advised the other. It's so much easier to remember people after you've seen them. This advice sounded sensible, and Jane settled back in her corner to enjoy the remainder of the ride. The time passed quickly. At five o'clock, they crossed the railroad junction and turned into the private road that led to Shady Nook. The trees were thick on one side of the road, but on the other, they could see the lovely Hudson River, gleaming blue in the August sunlight. Jane went into ecstasies over the beauty of the spot. Here we are, announced Mrs. Gaye as she turned off to a dirt driveway and brought the car to a stop at a tin garage. Our back door. Why, we're right in the woods, cried Jane, still unable to see the Gaye's cottage. Wait till you see the bungalow, returned Mary Louise. It's like a little dream house. You can borrow it for your honeymoon if you like, provided you don't get married in the summertime. Thanks a lot, but I think I'll wait a few years before I accept your kind offer. In another moment, they were all out of the car, following Mrs. Gaye around to the front of the cottage, up to the screened porch, from which they had a good view of the river. As Mary Louise had said, the bungalow was charming, built entirely of logs, it combined the picturesqueness of olden times with the conveniences of the modern day. A huge fireplace covered one entire wall of the living room and the chairs were big and soft and comfortable. A drop-leaf table at one end of the room was sometimes used for meals, because there was no dining room, but the spotless kitchen contained a breakfast nook where the Gays always ate their first meal of each day. Two bedrooms branched off from the living room with a white bathroom between them. A little bit too civilized for me, said Freckles in a most superior manner. I sleep out back in a tent. In good weather, amended Mrs. Gaye. Now girls, suppose we just unpack one suitcase apiece and get ready for dinner. We're going over to Flix, of course. I got to have a swim, announced Freckles. All right, if you'll be quick about it, and don't go in all by yourself. The group gathered together again at half past six and started down the private road to Flix Inn where they would have their supper. Mary Louise and Jane had both put on light summer dresses and looked as rested and refreshed as if they had been at Shady Nook all summer. And where is our next-door neighbor's cottage? inquired Jane, peering through the trees on the road. Or do the hunters live on the other side of you? No, the reeds live on the other side. There's is the last bungalow. The hunters is right in there. She paused at a path between two big oak trees. Jane stepped to her side and looked in among the foliage. I don't see it. She said, it's been burned down, cried Freckles, dashing up behind the girls. I didn't have a chance to tell you. About a week ago, Larry Reed said, awful mysterious in the night. Burned down, repeated Mary Louise, rushing in through the trees beside the path. Honestly, see for yourself, replied her brother. A few steps more and they saw for themselves that it was only too true. The blackened trunks, the dry scarred grass and the faint smoky odor confirmed his statement. The beautiful cottage was gone forever. Nothing remained but the charred stones of its foundation. Boy, don't I wish I'd been here, exclaimed Freckles regretfully. It must have been some fire. They say nobody saw it. It was practically out when they discovered it. Lucky that it was, said Mrs. Gay. Suppose ours had caught too. Mary Louise shuddered. Such an idea was too dreadful to contemplate. Do you know any of the details, Freckles? Asked his mother as the party turned back to the road again. No, I don't. Nobody does. It just happened at night while everybody was at a dance at the Royal Hotel across the river. Maybe we'll hear more about it at Flix. Come on, let's hurry. They passed one bungalow on the way to the inn, which Mary Louise pointed out to Jane as belonging to the partridges. All middle-aged people, she explained, so that her chum was not interested. Nobody over twenty-five was any use to Jane Patterson. The inn, a large square-frame building, was completely surrounded by porches on which tables were placed where people were already eating their dinners. Of the eight families at Shady Nook, all except one took their lunches and suppers at Flix. Besides them, they were at least half a dozen boarders. Roughly, Mary Louise estimated, there were about thirty-five people at the inn. They all seemed to know the gays for everybody was bowing and smiling as the little party opened the screen door of the front porch. Mrs. Flix, a fat, good-natured woman of about fifty, came forward to welcome them. My, it's good to see you all back again, she exclaimed, with genuine pleasure. But where is Mr. Gay? He had to go to California on business, explained Mrs. Gay. So we brought Mary Louise's friend, Jane Patterson, in his place. Mrs. Flix, this is Jane. Happy to meet you, Miss Jane. Returned the landlady as she led the gays to their accustomed table. When they were seated, she pulled up a chair beside them to talk for a few minutes with Mrs. Gay. Tell us about the hunter's bungalow, begged Mary Louise immediately. There isn't much to tell. Nobody knows much. Oh, here's Hattie to take your order. And the newcomers had to exchange greetings with the waitress, the daughter of a farmer named Adams, who lived a couple of miles from Shady Nook. When the order had been given, Mary Louise repeated her question. It happened a week ago, on a Saturday, explained Mrs. Flix. Mr. Clifford had four college boys visiting him, and they all went across the river that evening to a dance at the Royal Hotel. Mrs. Hunter went along with them. When they came back, the place was burned to the ground. Didn't anybody see the flames, or smell the smoke? No, the wind was the other way from the hotel, and there wasn't anybody at Shady Nook to notice. Everybody except Pa and me went to the dance, and we were sound asleep. Hattie came back with the soup, and Mrs. Flix rose from her chair. I'll see you later, she said as she hurried into the house. It sounds very mysterious, muttered Mary Louise. Oh, there's probably some simple explanation, replied Jane lightly. We'll have to ask Clifford Hunter. Where is he, Mary Lou? Do you see him? The other girl glanced hastily about the big porch and shook her head. Not here, she answered, but he may be inside. There's another dining room in the bungalow. This isn't Clifford, asked Jane, watching a tall, good-looking, dark-eyed young man coming out of the door. Mary Louise turned around and smiled. No, that's David McCall. He usually comes just for two weeks vacation and stays here at Flix. A moment later, the young man reached the gaze table and was introduced to Jane, but he merely nodded to her briefly. His eyes seemed to devour Mary Louise. I thought you'd never come, Mary Lou, he exclaimed. A whole week of my vacation is gone. But you have another week, don't you, David? Yes, a measly seven days, and then another year to wait till I see you again. His tone was not bantering like the boys at home. David McCall was serious. Too terribly serious, Mary Louise sometimes thought, about everything. May I come over to see you after supper, he pleaded. Of course, agreed Mary Louise lightly, and then you can tell us about the fire. You were here when it happened. No, I didn't get here till Sunday, but I can tell you something about it all right. Mary Louise's eyes opened wide with interest. Somebody said it on fire? On purpose, you mean, David? Yes. Who? The young man leaned over and whispered in her ear, Clifford Hunter himself. Mary Louise gasped in amazement. But why, she demanded. To collect the insurance, was the surprising reply. And turning about, David McCall went back into the boarding house. End of chapter one. Chapter two of The Mystery of the Fires by Edith Lavelle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Clifford's story. What did he say? Demanded both Jane and Freckles the moment David McCall was out of hearing distance. Mary Louise leaned forward and lowered her voice. He said Cliff Hunter set the place on fire himself to get the insurance. Now that his father is dead, the bungalow belongs to him. How awful, exclaimed Jane. Do you believe that, Mary Lou? No, I don't. Knowing Cliff as I do, do you, mother? Certainly not, replied Mrs. Gay emphatically. It's just David's jealousy. He's poor himself and he has a sort of grudge against all rich people. Maybe, admitted Mary Louise. David never did like Cliff. All the summers they've both been coming up here to shady nook. I wish I could meet this young hunter, lamented Jane. I'm keen to get a look at him. Maybe he isn't here anymore, remarked Mary Louise. Since the bungalow is gone, where would he stay? The hunters are living over at the Royal Hotel, I think, Freckles informed them. Seems to me that's what Larry Reed said. Then Cliff will be over to see you, observed Mrs. Gay confidently. Her supposition proved correct. No sooner had the gays return to their own bungalow after supper than a motorboat chugged its way across the river and anchored at their dock. A moment later Clifford Hunter stepped out. As Mary Louise had said, he was not a good looking young man. His height was only medium and he was so thin that even expensive tailoring could not make his clothes look well. But his big nose and his sandy complexion were offset by a pleasant smile and attractive gray eyes, which somehow made you feel as if you had known Cliff Hunter all your life. Hello, Mary Lou, he called as he came towards the porch. Heard you were here. He whistled a gay tune as he ascended the steps and smiled. Not so homely after all, Jane thought as she looked into his pleasant face and his white flannels and dark blue coat were certainly becoming. They evidently did not wear sweaters at the Royal Hotel. Hurry up, returned Mary Louise, we're dying to hear the news. Yes, of course. He shook hands with Mary Louise and her mother and was introduced to Jane. Sit down Clifford, urged Mrs. Gay. The young man fumbled in his pocket and produced a pack of cards. In a minute, thank you, Mrs. Gay, he replied. But first, take a card, Mary Lou. I know some bully new tricks. Mary Louise burst out laughing. Haven't you gotten over that fad yet, Cliff? She asked. He regarded her reprovingly. Don't talk so lightly about my profession, he said. I'm going to be a magician. Now, I'll explain the trick. You can look at the pack. Oh, but we want to hear about the fire, interrupted Mary Louise. Take a card, was his only reply. There was nothing to do but humour him. Jane was delighted. She loved card tricks and listened eagerly. But Mary Louise was more interested in the burning of the bungalow. At last, however, Clifford sat down beside Jane on the couch hammock and began to talk. You saw the ruins, he inquired. Yes, but nobody over at Flick seems to know how it happened. Most amazing thing you ever heard of. It was last Saturday night. I had four fellows from the fraternity here for the weekend, and about nine o'clock we all piled into the boat and went over to the Royal Hotel to dance. There happened to be a bunch of girls staying there that we knew, so we were sure of a swell time. The whole gang from Shady Nook went across too. The Reed family, the partridges, the Robinsons, practically everybody except the Flicks. So you see Shady Nook was deserted. We danced till around 12 o'clock and had something to eat. Then the fellows suggested we all get into the launch and go for a ride. Mother was game. She went along too, and so did a couple of the girls. By the time we took them back to the hotel and came home, it must have been two o'clock. Hadn't you seen any flames? Interrupted Jane, from the river, I mean. Not a flicker, but we had been motoring in the other direction, and you know the hotel isn't right across from our bungalow, so we shouldn't have been likely to notice when we were dancing. What wind there was blew the other way. Even when you reached your own dock, didn't you smell smoke, demanded Mary Louise? Yes, we did then, but the flames were all out. The bungalow was gone, but the trees hadn't caught fire. That was queer, remarked Mrs. Gay, unless somebody put out the fire. Nobody did as far as we know, replied Clifford, but it was out all right, and the bungalow gone, all but the foundation stones. Why in the world did you do? asked Jane. Went over to the partridges. They're the people who live next to us on the other side, he explained to Jane. Fortunately, they were still up, but they hadn't noticed the smoke for the trees. They had been at the dance themselves till about one o'clock. Well, they gave Mother their one extra bedroom, and we fellow slept in the living room. That was okay, but it was pretty ghastly losing everything at once, especially the clothes and things that belong to our guests. If it was going to happen, I don't see why it couldn't have burned down when we didn't have any company. Yes, that must have been embarrassing, agreed Mary Louise. She was thinking of David McCall's accusation that Clifford set the bungalow on fire himself to get the insurance, and it seemed absurd to her. He certainly would have chosen a more convenient time. What did you do the next day? she inquired. Mother and I went to our New York apartment, and the fellows went home. I put in a claim for the insurance, and after we had bought new summer outfits, we came back here and took a suite at the Royal. We expect to stay there all summer. Why not Flicks? was Mary Louise's next question. Everybody goes there. That's just why we didn't. They're so overcrowded, and mother likes plenty of room. We sure get that at the Royal. The hotel's practically empty. I don't see how poor Fraser can pay his taxes. He charges too much, said Mary Louise. If he'd be content to make a small profit the way Mr. Flick does, he'd probably fill his hotel. Well, it's an expensive place to keep up. Mother feels sorry for him, so she's entertaining a lot to bring him some business. I don't feel sorry for him. I don't like him. Remember that time we wanted to give an entertainment for the Red Cross, and he tried to charge us $50 for using his dining room, so we held it outdoors instead? Clifford nodded. Yes, but he says he's poor. So poor he can't pay his waitresses a living wage? Hattie Adams, you remember Jane, the girl who waited on our table at Flicks? Said he tried to pay her $2 a week and excused himself by telling her she'd make a lot on tips. She gets 10 at Flicks. A man like that deserves to fail, agreed Jane. To get back to the subject of the fire, said Mary Louise in her usual practical way whenever there was a mystery to be solved. What is your idea of the way it started, Cliff? I believe it was just an accident, replied the young man. Maybe it was some tramp or those kids, you know, the Smith Boys and a few others. Not the Reeds, for they were at the Royal, but they're all full of mischief. Maybe they were smoking corn silk in our garage. Oh, I hope not, exclaimed Mrs. Gay, for her son played a great deal with the Smith Boys. Tell Freckles to snoop around a bit and keep his eyes and ears open, suggested Clifford. Maybe he'll learn something. He'll enjoy being a detective. Mary Louise smiled. The young man did not know that she had proved herself a very good detective earlier in the summer. What does your mother think? She inquired. Clifford frowned. Mother suspicious. She believes there's been dirty work, actually thinks the place was set on fire, on purpose, by Dittmar. Dittmar, who is he? I've never heard of him. Probably not, but you soon will. He's a young architect who used to plan a lot of houses for my father before he died. You know the two new bungalows that were put up here this year, beyond Flicks? I heard there were two, but we haven't seen them yet. Well, Dittmar drew plans for them both and he and his young wife live in one of them. I see, but why would your mother suspect Mr. Dittmar of setting fire to her cottage? Asked Jane. That's easy, replied Mary Louise. So Dittmar would get the job of designing a new one. But that seems dreadful. Is this man the criminal type, Cliff? The latter shrugged his shoulders. How can anybody tell who's the criminal type nowadays when every day we read in the newspapers about senators and bankers stooping to all sorts of despicable tricks? True, agreed Jane. And is your mother going to rebuild? It wouldn't be mother, it would be I who would do it, explained Clifford, because dad left the place to me and all this land up here at Shady Nook that hasn't been sold yet. But I don't expect to do anything for a while. Mother's comfortable at the Royal and I don't mind, though I do like the people at Shady Nook a lot better. Oh, well, you can come over as much as you like, said Mary Louise, which is just what I intend to do. And that reminds me, one of the things I came to talk to you about, a swell shindig for Monday night. Oh, what? Gasp Jane in delight. A party down on the island, everybody goes in some kind of boat, naturally all dressed up. I mean, the boats are to be all dressed up, you understand? With the prize for the best decorated of each kind. Then we'll have a feed and play games. That's great, cried Jane enthusiastically. What'll we go in, Mary Lou, the canoe? I thought maybe you girls would come in my motorboat and lose the chance of winning a prize, interrupted Mary Louise. Thanks just the same Cliff, but I've got an idea already. David McCall was coming up the porch steps just in time to hear the refusal, and he grinned broadly. This was just as it should be, he thought, looking possessively at Mary Louise. Tall and dark and handsome, David McCall was indeed a contrast to Clifford Hunter in appearance. But Jane had already decided that she did not like him. Nobody 22 years old had any right to be so serious, even if he had been supporting himself for five years. Mary Louise was a trifle embarrassed as she greeted him, wondering how he and Cliff would get along together. But Cliff spoke to him cordially. Hello, Dave, he said, sit down, I've got a brand new trick, you take a card. Jane giggled, how could anybody help liking a boy like Cliff? Don't let's waste our time on card tricks, was David's reply. The light's fading, we ought to be out on the river, or in it if you prefer, he added, addressing Mary Louise. Clifford disappointed, put his cards away. You can show me all your tricks tomorrow, whispered Jane sympathetically, I love them. It's a date, exclaimed Cliff eagerly. Mary Louise stood up to conceal her nervousness at the sharp way in which David had spoken. Okay, she said, let's go somewhere, where? In my motorboat, suggested Cliff. Everybody agreed and the arrangement proved satisfactory, for the boat was large enough for Jane and Cliff to be together at the wheel, and David and Mary Louise off in another corner. Silky sat upright in the middle of the boat, as if he believed he were the chaperone, and it was his sacred duty to keep his eye on everybody. The evening passed pleasantly, for the stars were out, and the breeze over the river delightfully cool, and the boat itself in perfect condition. Even David forgot his grudge against rich young hunter, and under the magic spell of the night, joined happily in the singing. Mary Louise, however, insisted that they come home early, for though they hardly realized it, both girls were tired from their long trip. It's been a glorious day, exclaimed Jane, after the boys had gone home and the girls were preparing for bed. I'm crazy about shady knuck. I think it's pretty nice myself, returned the other with a yawn. If only Cliff's bungalow hadn't burned down. Tell me, urged Jane, which boy do you really like best, Cliff Hunter, or David McCall, or Max Miller? Mary Louise laughed. I don't know, Max, I guess. Now you answer a question for me. Who do you think set the hunter's bungalow on fire, Cliff himself, or that Mr. Ditmar, the architect, or the kids? There you go, cried Jane, being a detective instead of a normal girl on her vacation. Who cares anyhow? It doesn't hurt anybody but the insurance company, and I guess they can afford it. Oh, but I'd like terribly to know. Well, don't let's waste our wonderful month being detectives, pleaded Jane. But it may be important, Mary Louise pointed out. If it was done intentionally, there will probably be more fires. Don't forget, our cottage is next door to hunters. Jane opened her eyes wide in alarm. I never thought of that, she admitted. I've got to think of it, said Mary Louise. Daddy is trusting me to look after things and I can't fall down on my job. Nothing like that must happen. What can you possibly do about it? Investigate, of course. How? I'll begin by talking to Freckles tomorrow and see whether he's found out anything from the boys. Then I'll make it a point to meet Mr. Ditmar and follow up every clue I can get hold of. You would, yawned Jane, as she crept sleepily into her cot. End of chapter two. Chapter three of The Mystery of the Fires by Edith Lavelle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Ditmars. Freckles exclaimed Mary Louise as she entered the kitchenette of the bungalow the following morning. Where are you going? The boy grinned mysteriously. Can't tell you that, sis? He replied. It's a secret. But I wanted to talk to you and it's only a little after eight o'clock. I know, but I'm a busy guy, important affairs. With whom? Freckles hesitated. Then he decided to tell part of a secret. The fellows up here have a secret band. It's called The Wild Guys of the Road. I was initiated last night. Mary Louise burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. The Wild Guys of the Road, she repeated. Regular hold up men. Well, not exactly, replied her brother. But we've got some exciting adventures on. Who is the leader? Robbie Smith, he's got some swell ideas. Mary Louise's eyes narrowed. Does burning people's houses come into his plan? Gosh, no. We're not really bad, sis. We wouldn't do anything like that. Do you make fires at all? Sure we make fires. We've got to cook our camp meals, haven't we? And have our ceremonies. I see. She was thinking. And sometimes those fires spread farther than you want them to. No, of course not. Now don't you go blaming us guys for Hunter's bungalow burning down? I'm not blaming you, Freckles. You weren't even here. But I'm not so sure about those Smith boys. They are pretty wild once they get started. Remember the time they locked that little boy in the boathouse and almost left him there all night? Gee whiz, sis. They wouldn't have left him there. They just wanted to scare him. I'm not so sure. They're spoiled kids. I wish you wouldn't play with them. Now, sis, don't be silly. Everybody's in the gang together. I've got to play with the Smith boys or I'll stay home by myself. With a yell of goodbye for his mother, the boy was off. Mary Louise and Jane sat down to their breakfast. Mrs. Gay, who had eaten hers with Freckles, came in to talk to them. What have you on the program for today? She inquired. Oh, the usual things, answered her daughter. Tennis with a bunch this morning. And I suppose everybody will go in swimming about 11 o'clock. David is coming over to talk about fixing up our canoe for the contest tomorrow night. Jane coughed nervously. I, uh, sort of promised Cliff I'd go in his motorboat, Mary Lou, she said. Would that be all right? Sure, it's all right, agreed her chum. It'll be even better because the less weight we have in our canoe, the more decoration we can put on. And there's a prize for each type of boat, you know. Then I shan't be competing against you if I go in Cliff's launch. Oh no, we are in separate classes. After the girls had finished washing the dishes for Mrs. Gay, they started off for a little walk with Silky at their heels. Why not stop for the reed girls? Suggested Jane, mentioning the twins who lived in the cottage on the far side of the gays. I'm crazy to meet them. You'll meet them when we go swimming later on, replied Mary Louise. But just now I want to go in the other direction to call on the Dipmars. The Dipmars? For the moment Jane had forgotten who these people were, for she had heard so many new names the night before. Yes, don't you remember the young architect that Cliff told us about? The man Mrs. Hunter thinks set her bungalow on fire. Oh, yes, of course. In other words, as suspect. That's right, agreed Mary Louise. But how can we call on him if we don't know him? Asked Jane. We'll find a way. Oh, sure we will, teased Jane. Trust the girl detective for that. Shh, please don't call me that in front of anybody, Jane. If people think I'm snooping, they'll shut up like clams and won't tell me anything. Although there were only eight cottages at Shady Nook, the distance from the reeds on one end to the Dipmars on the other was over a mile. Cliff's father, Mr. Hunter, who had planned the little resort knew that even a small friendly community like this people still liked privacy. So he had left a small strip of woods between every two cottages. The girls walked along slowly, Mary Louise pointing out the bungalows as they passed by. That's where the hunters was, of course, she said to her chum. And now we're coming to the partridges. Next is Flix in. Yes, I remember this much from last night, not a Jane. But that's as far as we got. Are there many cottages on the other side of Flix? Only the Smiths and the two new ones. The Smiths don't actually live on the river road and you can't call their place a cottage. It's really the grandest house around here, much bigger than the hunters was. They have three children and a lot of servants. Mr. and Mrs. Smith are usually off traveling somewhere and even when they're here, they don't eat at Flix. So we can't count on them for any fun? No, Freckles plays with the boys, but except for that, we never see them. A little farther on, the girls came to the two new bungalows, set right in the heart of the woods. They were both perfectly charming. It was evident that young Mr. Ditmar was an architect with both taste and ideas. Don't you love it? Whisper Jane as the two girls approached the Ditmar's rose trellis bungalow. It looks like honeymoon cottage in a jigsaw puzzle. I understand the Ditmar's are practically a bride and groom, returned Mary Louise. Oh, there she is in the garden, pretty, isn't she? An attractive young woman in a pink dress looked up as the girls came nearer. She smiled pleasantly. Good morning, said Mary Louise. You are Mrs. Ditmar, aren't you? Everybody knows everybody else here at Shady Nook, so we'll introduce ourselves. This is my chum, Jane Patterson, and I'm Mary Louise Gay. The young woman nodded cordially. I'm awfully glad to meet you both, she said. This is a friendly place, I like it a lot. If only my husband did. Doesn't Mr. Ditmar like Shady Nook? Asked Mary Louise in surprise. No, he doesn't. But I guess it's just because he hasn't enough to do. You know how men are when they haven't any work, full of gloom. Well, things will be better this fall, remarked Jane optimistically. I don't know, replied Mrs. Ditmar. At least for architects, their work comes slowly. It was fine all spring while Horace had his bungalow to build and the Robinsons next door, but now he can't get a thing. Maybe the hunters will rebuild, suggested Jane openly. Mrs. Ditmar shook her head. We did hope so. We went over to see them at the Royal Hotel soon after their house burned down, but Mrs. Hunter wasn't very nice to us. She almost acted as if it were our fault. Jane suppressed a giggle and muttered under her breath. The plot thickens. Oh, I guess she was just all upset, remarked Mary Louise nervously. She'll get over that. She smiled. Anyway, you don't have to be gloomy, Mrs. Ditmar. Can't you get your tennis things on and play with us this morning? Thanks awfully, but I don't think I'd better leave Horace here alone. Bring him along. He wouldn't come. No, I better not, but perhaps I'll see you in swimming later on in the morning. It's awfully nice of you girls to be so friendly. We'll look for you in the water then. And by the way, you'll come to the party on the island tomorrow night, won't you? Again, the young woman refused. No, we really can't afford that. It's $2 for the supper, you know. And besides that, we'd have to hire one of Mr. Frazier's canoes. Couldn't you borrow one? Suggested Jane. No, I'm sorry, Horace refused to go. Mary Louise sighed, as if to say how thankful she was that she wasn't married to a grouch like that. So the girl said goodbye and walked slowly back to their cottage. She can't be over 20 if she's that, surmised Mary Louise. I certainly feel sorry for her. So do I, agreed Jane. Do you really think her husband is guilty, Mary Lou? I don't know, he sounds queer. She lowered her voice. There did not appear to be anybody around, but you never could tell with all those thick trees to conceal possible eavesdroppers. And if he believes it's his right to have work, he may try burning other cottages. That's what worries me. Well, he surely wouldn't pick on yours, Mary Lou, was Jane's comforting assurance. He'd select somebody's who was rich, like the Smiths, or someplace that was absolutely necessary, like the Flicks. The girls were passing the inn at this moment, and as they looked up, they saw David McCall in his tennis clothes coming out of the door. I was over at the bungalow looking for you girls, he said. The Reed girls are on the court, but they wouldn't let me play until I found a partner, so please hurry up. Okay, agreed Mary Louise. Walk back with us, Dave. I want you to tell me why you think Cliff Hunter set his own bungalow on fire at such an inconvenient time, when they had company, I mean. David smiled knowingly. That's his alibi, of course. What did he care about those four fellas? It didn't hurt them. You see, Mary Lou, I'm an insurance agent, and I'm up to all these tricks. The Hunter's place was insured for $10,000, and if it had been offered for sale, Cliff couldn't have gotten more than a couple thousand at a time like this. But the Hunters are rich, objected Mary Louise. They don't need the money. Everybody needs money, and I happen to know that Cliff wants to go around the world this fall. He wouldn't give up college. Nope, there's a college course in the bargain. They study and travel at the same time. It costs a small fortune. I don't believe he set that bungalow on fire, announced Jane. He's too honest. He just couldn't do a thing like that. Besides, added Mary Louise. We have another suspect, and she told David what she had just learned about Horace Dittmar. I'm just as sure that Dittmar didn't do it as you are that Cliff Hunter didn't, replied David when she had finished. Probably nobody said it on fire, concluded Jane. Just an accident. Let's forget it. Come on in, Mary Lou, and we'll put on our sneaks. We'll be ready in a minute, Dave. True to their promise, the girls returned a moment later with Silky at their heels, and all three young people made their way to the tennis court. There was only one court at Shady Nook, which the boys themselves had made. But there was another across the river on the hotel grounds. However, nobody ever seemed to mind waiting or taking turns, so the crowd usually stayed together. Jane was introduced to the reed twins, who looked and dressed so exactly alike that she had not the faintest idea which was Mabel and which was Sue after a couple of minutes had elapsed. Then there were three other young people who were staying at the inn for a short time, besides David McCall and themselves. To her dismay, Cliff Hunter did not come across the river to join the party. The whole crowd went in swimming about 11 o'clock, and here their elders joined them with some of the younger children, not Freckles, however, or the reed boys or the Smiths. They had gone off hiking for the day. Again, Jane did not see Cliff Hunter, and she was giving all her attention to a young man named Stuart Robinson, who lived in the new bungalow next to the Dipmars when she heard her name shouted from the shore. Jane, oh Jane! Raising her head from her swimming position and treading water, she peered towards the shore. It was Cliff Hunter, but not a tired in a bathing suit. Come on out, he called. Jane swung into the crawl and reached the young man in a couple of minutes. He was grinning broadly. Take a card, he said. Jane burst out laughing. How can I? she asked. I'm soaked. Oh, that's all right. I've got plenty of packs. This is a swell trick. I've been studying it all morning. Jane dropped down on the grass and listened to his trick. The young man was enchanted. She stayed with him until Mary Louise literally dragged her back into the water. How anybody could believe Cliff Hunter guilty of a despicable crime, she said later to her chum, is beyond me. He's as innocent as a child. I hope so, returned Mary Louise. Time will tell. End of chapter three. Chapter four of The Mystery of the Fires by Edith Lavelle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Another fire. Everybody at Shady Nook worked all day Monday on the decorations for the boats. Everybody, that is, except Mr. and Mrs. Flick and a few of the older people who were preparing the food for the supper on the little island that night. Jane was helping Clifford Hunter paint pieces of wood which were intended to transform his launch into an auto gyro, and David McCall and Mary Louise picked flowers and leaves all afternoon to make festoons for her canoe. I do think freckles and those other kids might have helped us, she remarked as she tied on the last cluster of sunflowers. Oh, we didn't need them, returned David smiling. He had enjoyed having Mary Louise to himself all afternoon. It's five o'clock now. We'll have to hurry and wash and dress. Don't forget supper at Flick's is half past tonight. The young man nodded, I'll be ready, Mary Lou. Mrs. Gay's voice interrupted them from the inside of the bungalow. Has anybody seen freckles, she called? Not since this morning, replied her daughter. I tried to get him to help us, but he said he was off for the day with his gang. Yes, I know that, I gave him some lunch, but he ought to be home by now. He'll probably be along in a minute. But he did not come. David went back to the inn and Mrs. Gay and the two girls dressed for the picnic, but still freckles did not appear. We can't go off and leave him without any supper, said Mrs. Gay, because Mrs. Flick is going to close the dining room and lock up at 6.30. If only we could phone the Smiths, sighed Mary Louise. He's probably over there with the boys. Suppose Jane and I run over. It's too far, it will make you late for supper. Not very late, we'll hurry. Come on, Jane, we'll be back in 10 minutes. But you go on down to the inn, mother, and order the dinner. Mrs. Gay nodded, immensely relieved. What a comfort Mary Louise was. You never had to ask her to do anything for you. The two girls hurried away along the private road beside the river, past the Flicks and the Robinsons, then turned up the hill to the Smiths' house beyond. It was Jane's first sight of the imposing looking place at close range. She exclaimed in admiration. What a marvelous house! They must be awfully rich. They are, replied Mary Louise, but they don't appreciate this place a bit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith are hardly ever here at all in the summer. Those two boys just run wild. There's a nurse to look after the little girl. She's only four years old, but the boys do pretty much as they please and boss the servants around. That's why mother and I feel worried about freckles when he's with them. A sedate-looking butler answered the girl's ring at the door. No, miss, was his reply to Mary Louise's question. The boys haven't been here all day. Did they expect to go to the picnic tonight on the island? Yes, miss. Steve, the chauffeur, was to take them. Mary Louise sighed. There was nothing she could do. Well, if my brother comes back here, will you please send him right over to the inn? She asked, and tell him to hurry. The girls turned away and started back. It's going to spoil mother's evening, remarked Mary Louise disconsolently. Oh, he'll be sure to turn up soon, returned Jane reassuringly. I know, but even if he does, he won't be able to get to the island. All the boats at Shady Nook are being used, even the row boats. Everybody's going except the dipmars. Poor Adelaide dipmar, sighed Jane. Imagine missing all that fun just because of a grouchy husband. I'm glad I'm single. Mary Louise laughed. All men aren't alike, Jane. You know Cliff Hunter would never miss any fun, or Max, or Norman, she added, mentioning their two best friends in Riverside. Mrs. Gay looked up hopefully as the girls entered the inn, but her expression changed immediately. She could tell from their faces that they had not been successful. After supper was over, all was bustle and excitement as the people got into the boats and pushed them out into the river. There were six canoes, four row boats, and three motor boats, all decorated beautifully or fantastically, according to the taste of the owners. Three prizes were to be awarded for the cleverest boat of each type, and everybody was to vote on the style in which he or she was not competing. Mary Louise and David McCall stepped into their flower-covered canoe. Mrs. Gay joined the partridges in a rowboat, and Jane waited for Cliff Hunter's motorboat to come puffing across the river. It arrived at the same time as the Frasier's rather seedy launch, and Jane was introduced to them and to Mrs. Hunter. You'll walk away with the motorboat prize, Cliff, called Mary Louise to the young man at the wheel. She lowered her voice. Poor old Frasier's launch is pathetic, and Stuart Robinson's is just funny. I hope the prize is a deck of cards, returned Cliff, mine are wearing out. Mary Louise laughed and dipped her paddle into the water. Her canoe did look pretty, and it was a heavenly night, if only freckles were there. The boats began to move off, the launch is puffing ahead, the canoes gliding gently behind them, and the rowboats progressing more ponderously. Somebody began to play a ukulele, and gay voices took up the tune. The island, a small oblong strip of land, was situated about two miles down the river from Shady Nook. Several years ago, someone at the resort had discovered it, and everybody had taken a hand at fixing it up for picnic purposes. There was a glorious stone fireplace, and a large spot had been cleared for dancing and games. Seats had been scattered about, and a couple of board tables had been erected near the fireplace. Tonight, the whole island was alight with Japanese lanterns, giving it a gay and festive air. When the last rowboat had finally reached its destination, the crowd all gathered together on the grass near the shore to record their votes. The two Robinson boys went about collecting them. Mary Louise was sitting close to her mother, watching her intently. The Reed boys aren't here either, whispered Mrs. Gay. I was just talking to Mrs. Reed, and she said she hasn't seen Larry or George since morning, but she doesn't seem much worried. Freckles must be all right if he's with the whole bunch, Mary Louise assured her. Nothing much could happen to five boys together. Mrs. Gay forced herself to smile. I'll try not to worry, dear. Oh, listen, Mr. Robinson is going to announce the winners. The jovial-faced man, Stuart's father, stepped forward. First prize for rowboats goes to Sue and Mabel Reed. He said, come forward girls and get your prize. It's a box of tennis balls. The twins dressed exactly alike in blue dimity came up together bowing and expressing their thanks. The prize for canoes to Mary Louise Gay continued Mr. Robinson. More tennis balls. David McCall clapped loudly and everybody else joined in the applause. Mary Louise was a general favorite at Shady Nook. The prize for motorboats goes to my son Stuart for his funny-looking contraption. Everybody clapped but Jane. She was terribly disappointed. She didn't see why Cliff's clever idea hadn't taken the honors, but glancing at the young man, she could detect no resentment in his face. He was a wonderful sport. After the prizes had been disposed of, the games began and continued until dark. Almost everyone joined in the fun, even the middle-aged people, all except a few who were helping Mrs. Flick prepare the refreshments and Mrs. Hunter and the Frasiers who were too stiff and dignified. How do you like Mrs. Hunter? whispered Mary Louise once when the two chums found themselves hiding side by side in a game. Kind of stuck up, replied Jane. But she's better than those Frasiers. He's positively oily. Didn't I tell you? I wouldn't stay in his hotel if our bungalow burned down, no matter how much money we had. Mrs. Hunter seems to like him, but I think it's Frasier who put the idea into her head that Dittmar set her cottage on fire. Because I heard him say to her, I wonder whose place will burn down tonight. Dittmar stayed home. Oh, how awful. Shh, oh gosh, we're caught. Why must girls always talk? lamented Jane. The moon came up in the sky, making the night more enchanting, more wonderful than before. The games broke up, and Mrs. Flick called the people to refreshments. Sit with me, Mary Lou. Urged David, jealously touching her arm. We must find Mother, returned the girl. She's over there with Mrs. Hunter in the hotel bunch. You don't want to be with them, do you? Not particularly, but I do want to be with Mother and Jane and Cliff, so come on. David closed his lips tightly, but he followed Mary Louise just the same. Mrs. Gay made a place for them and the young couple sat down. You're not still worried, are you, Mother? Asked Mary Louise as she passed the chicken salad. I'm afraid I am, dear. If we could only see shady nook from here, perhaps the boys would flash their lights. They're surely all right, put in Mrs. Hunter consolingly. They're big enough to take care of themselves. I'll say they are, remarked Mr. Frazier. I caught them cutting my yew tree to make bows. There's nothing they can't do. Mary Louise regarded the hotel keeper with contempt, thinking again how stingy he was. Anybody else would be glad to give the boys a branch of a tree. So long as they don't set anything on fire, observed Cliff lightly. Oh, Cliff! exclaimed Mary Louise in horror. David McCall nudged her meaningfully. Criminals always try to cover up their crimes by laying the suspicion on somebody else, he whispered, but only a cad would blame innocent children. Mary Louise cast him a withering look. She was beginning to despise David McCall. When the whole party had eaten all they possibly could, somebody started to play a ukulele and the young people danced on the smooth grass that had been worn down by so many picnics. Nobody apparently wanted to go home, except Mrs. Gay. Finally Mrs. Reed, beginning to be anxious about her own two boys, seconded the motion for departure. Let's give the rowboats 20 minutes start, suggested Cliff Hunter, and the canoe's 10. We'll beat you all at that. If our engines don't give out, put in Steward Robinson doubtfully, he never felt confident about his ancient motorboat. Suits me fine, cried Jane, realizing that the arrangement gave her 20 extra minutes to dance. The rowboats pushed off and 10 minutes later Mary Louise and her mother and David stepped into their canoe. It was a light craft built for speed and both she and David were excellent paddlers. In no time at all they were leading the procession. It was David's sharp eyes which first detected signs of a disaster. There's a fire at shady nook, he cried breathlessly. Oh, gasp Mrs. Gay in horror and turning about swiftly Mary Louise thought that her mother was going to faint, but she didn't. She pulled herself together quickly and sat up very straight. It's true, agreed Mary Louise, her voice trembling with fear. Suppose it were their own cottage and and freckles. The canoe rounded the bend in the river and came within full view of the little resort. The reed's house was visible now. Yes, and the gaze, thank heaven it was unharmed. It's either the partridges or flicks, announced David and my bet is that it's flicks. I was expecting it. You were expecting it David, repeated Mrs. Gay in consternation. What do you mean by that? Because Cliff Hunter holds a big mortgage on flicks in, replied the young man. It means ready cash for him. Don't be absurd, commanded Mary Louise. How could Cliff have anything to do with it when he was with us all evening? Haven't you ever heard of a bribe, Mary Lou? He asked. The girl did not answer. The increasing noise of the engines behind them told them that the motorboats had caught up with them. Everybody knew about the disaster now. Mrs. Flick was crying and Mr. Flick was yelling and waving his arms wildly, calling upon everybody to help him. He was out of his boat first. He happened to be riding in the Robinson's launch and he dashed madly through the trees that stood between his inn and the river. In his excitement he almost knocked over a small boy carrying a pail of water from the river. Frackles, cried Mrs. Gay in a tone of both relief and fear, relief that her child was safe, fear that he had had something to do with the fire. What are you doing? Trying to save the trees, explained the boy. The inn was gone when we got here but us guys kept the fire from spreading. He looked up proudly as if he expected a medal for his bravery. I don't believe a word of it, thundered Mr. Flick. I believe you boys set the place on fire and now you're trying to lie out of it. I wouldn't put it past him, muttered Mr. Frazier at his side. The Frazier's had landed at Shady Nook instead of crossing to the hotel shore. Tell the truth boys, urged Mrs. Gay, for by this time both the Smiths and the two young Reeds had joined Frackles. We came along here about dark, said Larry Reed who was the oldest of the group and smelled smoke. Course we investigated, the inn was gone but the ashes were still smoldering and there was smoke coming out from the bushes. So we ran over to the gays and to our house and got buckets and carried water from the river. It's about out now. You're sure that's the truth? demanded Mr. Reed. On my honor dad, replied the boy solemnly. Did you see anybody in the woods or around Shady Nook? inquired Mrs. Flick. Yeah, a big guy who looked like a tramp from the woods. It was too dark to see his face and a funny looking woman in a gray dress with a big picture under her arm. Together, asked Mary Louise. No, the big guy was in the woods and the woman was running along the road that leads to four corners. Nothing but a made up yarn, denounced Mr. Flick. But the fire was really out. There was nothing anybody could do. Frazier suggested that the Flicks and their guests come over to his hotel and the latter accepted. But the Flicks, realizing that this was not a real invitation that the hotelkeeper would present them with a bill later on, chose to stay with the partridges. So at last the group dispersed for the night. Mary Louise, however, was so exasperated with David McCall that she never even answered his pleasant good night. End of chapter four. Chapter five of The Mystery of the Fires by Edith LaVelle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Freckles story. What in the world are you doing? Asked Jane when she came out on the porch the following morning to find her chums studiously pouring over a notebook. You must think school has begun. Mary Louise looked up. It's harder than school, but it's more fun, she replied. I'm working on The Mystery of the Fires. Mystery? You really don't think the Flicks in was just an accident? No, I don't. If it were the first fire, I might believe that. But with the hunters a week or so ago, the whole thing looked sinister to me. I'm frightened, Jane. Ours may be the next. We haven't any insurance to speak of. Besides, something dreadful might happen to mother. People are burned to death sometimes, you know? Yes, that's true, replied Jane seriously. But what are you going to do? Treat it just like a case, as I did Dark Seeders. List all the possible suspects and search the neighborhood for desperate characters. Such as gypsies? No, not gypsies. They wouldn't have any motive this time. But somebody must have a motive unless it's a crazy person who's responsible. Jane's eyes open wide. That's an idea, Mary Lou. There are people like that, crazy along just one particular line. They feel they simply have to light fires, firebugs, you know? Incendiary is the correct term, I believe, said Mary Louise. Oh, so you've already thought of it and looked up the word? Yes, I've thought of it. Who wouldn't have? It's the first explanation that jumps into your head when you hear of a fire. They say lighted cigarettes start them too and small children. Small children? But not boys as big as freckles and the smiths. An expression of pain passed over Mary Louise's face. I'm afraid everybody suspects the boys, especially Mr. Flick. I'm going to call freckles now and ask him just exactly what he did yesterday. Then, if you're interested, Jane, I'll read you all my list of suspects. Sure, I'm interested. I love to play the part of Watson to the great Sherlock Holmes gay. Mary Louise stuck out her tongue. Don't be so fresh, she said, but she was pleased and flattered to be called Sherlock Holmes. Freckles, eating a bun and followed by Silky, came leisurely through the screen door. Mary Louise asked him to sit down and talk to her. Can't long, with the reply, have to go see old man, Flick. Don't speak of Mr. Flick in that disrespectful way, said Mary Louise disapprovingly. I will, though, I hate him. He thinks us guys set his old inn on fire and we really saved his trees. Sweating like horses carrying water from the river and that's all the thanks we get. Freckles, said his sister seriously, you must tell me all about what you did yesterday. Everything, no secrets, because this is important. It may save somebody innocent from imprisonment and help spot the real criminal. Okay, I will, sis. He sat down on the hammock and Silky jumped up beside him. He gave the little dog a piece of his bun and then he began. Up in the woods, beyond shady nook, past the Dipmars, you know, and all the cottages, we're building a shack, a clubhouse for the wild guys of the road. So yesterday we took our lunches, the two smiths, the two reeds and I, to set to work. Did you make a fire, demanded Mary Louise. Sure we made a fire, we got to have a fire, but don't you go thinking that fire spread to flicks. If it had, why wouldn't Dipmars and Robinson's cottages have been burned, there in between. Yes, that's true. Did you stay there in the woods all day? Yeah, cook some hot dogs for our supper and Larry Reed had a can of baked beans. Boy, we had a swell feed and never thought a thing about the picnic on the island till it started to get dark. Then we put out the fire, packed our stuff away and made tracks for home. About what time was that, asked Mary Louise. I mean, when you finally left your camp. Nine, 30 or 10, maybe, I don't know. And you saw two people on your way back, you said? Four people, really, because the Dipmars were taking a walk in the woods. They were quarreling, I'm sure. She was mad at him, said she thought he was positively cruel. What, exclaimed Jane. Looks as if Horace Dipmar might have set the place on fire himself. Just as Mr. Frazier was expecting. Mary Louise wrote something in her notebook and Freckles continued. Then, a little farther on, we met a tramp. At least, we think he was a tramp, though it was too dark to see his face. He was a big man in shabby old clothes, overall, as I think. He was coming towards us away from Shady Nook. We think he's the man you want. Had you ever seen him before? I don't think so, but I wouldn't want to be sure. After we passed him, we saw the funny looking woman with the big picture under her arm. The moon was out then and we got a good look at her. We all think she was crazy, kinda talking to herself as she went along. Then, as we came nearer to Shady Nook, we smelled smoke and found out it was flicks. The inn was burned down by then. It was all wood, you know, but there was plenty of fire smoldering around. So we got some buckets at our own houses and began carrying water from the river. We must have worked a couple of hours till you came along. That's all. You're going to tell the story to Mr. Flick? It's not a story, cried the boy indignantly. It's the truth. Oh, I didn't mean it that way. Mary Louise hastened to assure him. I believe you freckles, but I do wish you had someone to swear to the truth of it, for the people who may not believe you. Some witness, I mean. Did the dipmars see you boys in the woods? No, when we heard their voices and I told you she was good and mad, we beat it around another path. Women murder their husbands sometimes, you know, he added solemnly. I don't believe Mrs. Dipmar would commit murder, replied his sister. We met her yesterday morning and she seemed awfully nice. Freckles stood up. Guess I better be on my way. Old man Flick's got an awful temper. Well, be sure to keep yours, Mary Louise warned him as he walked down the steps. She turned to Jane. What do you think about it? She asked. I think it's a mess, but I don't believe anybody's guilty, probably just some careless servant girl. I don't know. I'm going over to see Mr. Flick this morning. I'll have a good reason now that Freckles is sort of involved. Now I'll read you my list of suspects and their motives and you can tell me what you think and whether you can add any names. Horace Dipmar, motive to make work for himself. Mr. Flick and Cliff Hunter, owners to collect insurance. Tramp and queer looking woman, firebugs, careless servants and the boys. Now, can you think of anybody else? It looks like Mr. Dipmar to me or else the careless servants, replied Jane. I never believe it was Cliff Hunter or Mr. Flick. Why, Mr. Flick was making money this summer. He'd be a fool to set his place on fire. Besides, he was at the picnic. How could he? Things like that can be arranged, replied Mary Louise, thinking of David McCall's accusation. That tramp, for instance, might have been bribed. Well, I'm sure he wouldn't want to. Now, if it were that man Frazier's place, the Royal Hotel, I mean, it would be possible. You know what Cliff said about the way he's losing money. The hotel is practically empty except for the hunters and their friends. Maybe it will give Mr. Frazier an idea, remarked Mary Louise, and his hotel be the next to burn. You seem to feel sure that something is coming next. I'm afraid so, and I only hope it won't be our bungalow. Mary Louise sighed and closed her notebook. It's much more difficult than that mystery at Dark Cedars, she said, because there you had only one place to watch. If I knew which cottage would be the next to burn, I could hide there and spy, but Shady Nook's a mile long, and I can't be everywhere. No, agreed Jane, and you don't like to stay home from all the parties just on a chance that there will be a fire. Has it occurred to you, Mary Lou, that both fires started when everybody from Shady Nook was off on a party? Yes, it has. That's why it seems like a planned crime to me, not just an accident, as if the criminal picked his time carefully. The familiar chug chug of a motorboat interrupted the girl's discussion. Clifford Hunter shut off his engine and threw the rope around the gay's dock. Hello, girls, he called with his usual grin. I haven't had time to work up any new card tricks, but I hope I'll be welcomed just the same. Oh, we have more serious things to think about than tricks, responded Mary Louise. You mean that now you have to turn in and do the cooking since Flix Inn is gone? I really hadn't thought of that, answered Mary Louise. Though of course we shall have to do that very thing, we aren't rich enough to eat at the Royal Hotel. It's not so steep, considering the service you get. Maybe Frazier will lower his prices, for he sure needs the business. But of course you have a large family, it would be kind of expensive. Where can we buy food? inquired Jane. So far, the gay's breakfasts have consisted of supplies they brought along with them, with the addition of milk, butter, and eggs from a farmer who stopped daily at Flix. There's a store over at Four Corners, replied her chum, naming the nearest village about five miles away. We usually drive over once a week for supplies. I suppose I better go in now and ask Mother how soon she wants me to go. Be my guest tonight at the Royal for dinner, suggested Cliff. Then you won't have to bother about buying stuff. Thanks, Cliff, but there are too many of us. Besides, I'd have to go to the store anyway. We'll need things for lunch. You know how hungry we are when we come out from swimming. By the way, asked Jane, where's David McCall staying, and the other people who were boarding at Flix? They're all over at the hotel, answered Cliff, makes the place seem quite lively, Frazier stepping around at a great rate, looking pleased as punch. Oh, exclaimed Mary Louise significantly, and she wrote another name into her notebook. She ran inside the cottage, and five minutes later returned with her mother's list of groceries and the keys to the car. I'm going over to Four Corners now, Jane, she announced. Will you come with me or play around with Cliff? Her chum stood up. I'll go with you, she said. If you'll excuse me, Cliff. The young man made a face. Jane only likes me for my card tricks, he whined. If I can't amuse her, I'm no use. Both girls burst out laughing. Work up a new one while we're gone, advised Jane, and we'll see you in swimming. End of chapter five. Chapter six of The Mystery of the Fires by Edith Lavelle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. More suspects. I told mother we girls would take every other day at the housekeeping, said Mary Louise as she backed the car out of the garage and onto the road behind the cottages. That will give her a chance to get some rest from cooking, some vacation. You don't mind, do you, Jane? Course I don't mind, replied her chum. Maybe the family will, though. Don't you believe it? We're swell cooks if I do say it myself. She drove the car along past the backs of the cottages, turning at the road beyond Dittmar's in the direction of the little village of Four Corners, a place not much bigger than its name implied. It was a still, hot day. All the vegetation looked parched and dried and the road was thick with dust. I wish it would rain, remarked Mary Louise. If we should have another fire, it might spread so that it would wipe out all of Shady Nook. Oh, let's forget fires for a while, urged Jane. You're getting positively morbid on the subject. Is this the grocery? She asked as her companion stopped in front of a big wooden house. It looks more like a dry goods store to me, all those aprons and overalls hanging around. It's a country store, explained the other girl. Wait till you see the inside. They have everything, even shoes, and the storekeeper looks over his glasses just the way they always do in plays. The girls jumped out of the car and ran inside. Jane found the place just as Mary Louise had described it, a typical country store of the old fashioned variety. Hello, Mr. Eberhard. How are you this summer, asked Mary Louise. Fine, Miss Gay, fine. You're looking well too, but I hear you had some excitement over to Shady Nook. A bad fire, they tell me. Can you figure out how it happened? No, we can't, replied the girl. You see, everybody was away at the time at a picnic on the little island down the river. Looks like spite to me, observed the storekeeper. Bet Lemuel Adams or his good for nothing son did it. Lemuel Adams, replied Mary Louise. Who is he? Any relation to Hattie Adams, who always waited on the table at Flix Inn? Yup, he's her father. You ought to know him. He's a farmer who lives up that hill, about a couple of miles from Shady Nook. Well, he used to own all his ground around here, but he sold it cheap to a man named Hunter, the one who started the settlement at Shady Nook. Yes, I knew him, said Mary Louise. He was Clifford Hunter's father, but he died not long ago. So I heard. Anyhow, this man Hunter got fancy prices for his building lots, and naturally old Lem Adams got sore, always complaining how poor he is and how rich old Hunter got on his land. Reckon it got under his skin, and maybe he decided to take revenge. Oh, Mary Louise wanted to write the name of Lemuel Adams into her notebook then and there, but she didn't like to. Should she add Hattie's name too? Had the girl taken any part in the plot? What sort of looking man is Mr. Adams? She inquired, thinking of the tramp whom the boys had mentioned seeing in the woods. Old man with white hair, has a bad leg. Rheumatism, I reckon. He walks with a limp, explained the storekeeper. Mary Louise sighed, this couldn't be the same person then, for the boys would surely have noticed a limp. Here's my list, she said, handing her mother's paper to Mr. Eberhard. Do you think you have all those things? If I ain't, I can get them for ya, was the cheerful reply. The girls wandered idly around the store while they waited for their order to be filled. Jane had a wonderful time examining the queer articles on display and laughing at the ready-made dresses. At last, however, a boy carried their supplies to the car and Mary Louise asked for the bill. $9.62, announced Mr. Eberhard with a grin. You folks sure must like to eat. We do, agreed Mary Louise. I suppose this will mean more business for you, or did the flicks buy groceries from you anyhow? No, they didn't. They got most of their stuff from the city. Yes, in a way it's a streak of luck for me. The old saying, you know, that it's a nail-win that brings nobody luck. Yes, I'll have to be stocking up. Mary Louise and Jane followed the boy to the car and drove away. As soon as they were safely out of hearing, Mary Louise said significantly, two more suspects for my notebook. Two, repeated Jane. You mean Lemuel Adams and his son? I wasn't thinking of the son, replied Mary Louise, though, of course, he's a possibility. No, I was thinking of Mr. Eberhard, the storekeeper. The storekeeper? Now, Mary Louise, your ideas are running wild. Next thing you'll be suspecting me. Maybe I do, laughed her chum. No, but seriously, if dad is working on a murder case, he always finds out immediately who profited by the victim's death. That supplies a motive for the crime. Well, it's the same with the fire. Didn't the storekeeper profit by getting extra business because flicks burned down? Yes, he did. Admitted the other girl. But on the other hand, it didn't do him a bit of good for the hunter's bungalow to be destroyed. No, of course not. But then that may have been an accident. Yet this Lemuel Adams might have been responsible for both fires. He seems a lot guiltier to me. If he hated Mr. Hunter particularly, he'd naturally burn his cottage first. Then he'd go about destroying all the rest of Shady Nook. Your reasoning sounds good to me, Jane, approved Mary Louise, her brown eyes sparkling with excitement. And we've got to make a call on Mr. Adams right away this very afternoon. Not me, said Jane. I'm going canoeing with Cliff Hunter. Mary Louise looked disappointed. Suppose Watson had told Sherlock Holmes that he had a date with a girl and couldn't go on an investigation with him when he was needed. Watson was only a man in a book who didn't make dates. I'm a real girl who's full of life. I came up here for some fun, not just to be an old character in a detective story. And besides Mary Lou, you have a date too. I heard you promised David McCall you'd go canoeing with him today. I'm mad at David, objected Mary Louise. He certainly made me furious last night. What did he do? Mary Louise frowned, but she did not tell Jane what the young man had said about Cliff Hunter. No use getting her chum all excited, so she merely shrugged her shoulders. Oh, just some remarks he made, she replied. But I really had forgotten all about the date. When did I promise him? Yesterday afternoon, before I went off with Cliff. Oh, come on, Mary Lou, go along with us. Let's pack a supper. It'll be easy with all that food we brought back from the store. Maybe your mother and freckles will go along. No, I really can't, Jane. I don't want to be rude to you. You are my guest, I know. But honest, this is important. That I go see old Mr. Adams, I mean. If he has made up his mind to burn down the entire settlement of Shady Nook, our cottage will be included. I've just got to do something to save it and everybody else's. You know, dad's counting on me. Yes, I understand how you feel, Mary Lou, but you may be all wrong. These two fires may just have been accidents and then you'll be wasting your perfectly good vacation for nothing. Oh, but I'm having fun. There's nothing I love better than a mystery. Only this one does scare me a little because we may actually be involved in it. Well, you do whatever you want, Jane told her. Just regard me as one of the family and I'll go my own way. I know everybody here now and I'm having a grand time. Only don't forget you have David McCall to reckon with about breaking that date. They drove up to the back door of the cottage and freckles, who had returned home by this time, helped carry in the boxes. Mary Louise asked him how he had made out with the flicks. Not so good, was the reply. He's sore as anything. Still believes we had something to do with starting the fire, though he admits he doesn't think we did it on purpose. They're going away today. Oh, that's too bad, exclaimed Mary Louise. I was hoping they would build some kind of shack and continue to serve meals. Nope, they're not going to. They've decided to go right back to Albany where they live in the winter. Where are they now? demanded Mary Louise. She realized that she must hurry if she meant to interview them before they left Shady Nook. Mr. Flicks on his lot and Mrs. Flick is over at the partridges. They stayed there all night, you know, sis. As soon as the supplies from the store were carefully stored away, the two girls walked over to the spot where the Flicks Inn had stood. The charred remains were pitiful to see. The fire had been much harder on the Flicks than the hunter's disaster had been for them because the innkeeper and his wife were poor, and what they made in the summer went a long way towards supporting them all the year round. Mary Louise felt sorry for them, but nevertheless she resented their laying the blame upon her brother. The girls found Mr. Flick standing under a tree talking to some men in overalls, working men who Mary Lou remembered seeing from time to time around the hotel across the river. May I speak with you for a moment, Mr. Flick? inquired Mary Louise as the former turned around and spoke to her. Yes, of course, Mary Louise, he replied. I'll be with you in a minute. You really don't think the boys are responsible, do you, Mr. Flick? She asked directly when he joined the girls. I don't know what to think, replied the man. It may have been an accident that one servant girl we have is awfully careless. Which one? Hattie Adams, the one who waits on your table and washes the dishes. Hattie Adams, repeated Mary Louise, Lemuel Adams' daughter? Yes, and Tom Adams' sister. He lowered his voice. That's Tom over there. Remember him? He does odd jobs for both me and Frazier sometimes. Mary Louise nodded and glanced at the young man. He was a big fellow with a somewhat sullen expression. He looked something like Hattie. How do you know Lem Adams? inquired Mr. Flick. I don't, replied Mary Louise quietly. But the storekeeper over at Four Corners told me about him, how he used to own all this land and sold it cheap to Mr. Hunter. So he thinks maybe Mr. Adams is burning the cottages to spite the hunters. But Hunter is dead, objected Mr. Flick. And it doesn't spite the hunters one bit because they are fully insured. That's the worst of it for me. My insurance only covers my mortgage, which Cliff Hunter happens to hold. I'm as good as wiped out. Oh, I'm so sorry, said Mary Louise sympathetically. Not half as sorry as I am, he scowled. And when I get to Albany, I'm going to hunt up a lawyer. If those Smith kids did it, their parents can pay for the damage. Oh, but they didn't, protested Mary Louise. It's too bad if your brother was in it too. But if he was, he ought to be punished. Though I blame that Robbie Smith as the ringleader. Boys like those aren't safe to have around. They don't have anybody to control them. They ought to be locked behind the walls of a reform school. There was nothing Mary Louise could say. The man was far too wrought up to listen to reason, so she and Jane merely nodded goodbye and turned away. They stopped at the partridge's cottage to see Mrs. Flick and found her much calmer. I blame the Adams girl, she said. Had he so careless, and she was the last one at the end, I never should have left her alone. But my other waitresses wanted to get back to their hometown and they left early, before we did, so I can't lay the blame on them. You really don't think the boys did it, do you, Mrs. Flick, inquired Mary Louise anxiously? No, I don't, was the reassuring reply, even if my husband does. Thank goodness for that, exclaimed the girl in relief. Well, I'm going to call on the Adams family this afternoon and find out all I can, all Pump Hattie and old Mr. Adams too. Good luck to you, my dear, concluded Mrs. Flick. End of chapter six. Chapter seven of the Mystery of the Fires by Edith Lavelle. This slipperbox recording is in the public domain. The Crazy Woman. Jane went off early after lunch in Cliff Hunter's canoe and Mary Louise sat on the porch waiting for David McCall. She was still angry at him for the way he had accused Cliff to her the night before, but a promise is a promise and she meant to see him. If she had had a chance to go swimming that morning, she might have tried to break the date. He came along about half past two, smiling shyly as if he were not quite sure how he stood with Mary Louise. You're not still mad at me, Mary Lou, are you? He asked, looking straight into her eyes. Yes, I am, replied the girl. I'm disappointed that a boy with your brains can't reason more intelligently. The finest detective in the world wouldn't be sure that one certain person was guilty of a crime until he had made some investigations. But it's so obvious, Mary Lou. Hunter holds a big mortgage on one place and a big fire insurance on another. He can't sell either of them and he needs the money, so he sets them both on fire and collects that way. What could be simpler? There are lots of other people besides Cliff who profited from those two fires. In fact, concluded Mary Louise, the thing that worries me is that there are so many suspects. It's terribly confusing. David opened his eyes wide in amazement. I don't see who, he began. Oh, don't you? Snapped the girl. Then just listen to this bunch of names. She opened her notebook and read him the list. Horace Dittmar, Lemuel Adams, Eberhart, the storekeeper, Frazier, a tramp the boy saw in the woods, and a queer-looking woman. Not to mention the boys because I really don't think they did it. David shook his head. All possible, of course, but not any of them probable. Of course, I understand you have reasons for suspecting Dittmar and I admit he is a queer cuss. Still, I don't think he'd do a thing like that, but tell me why you suspect men like Adams. I suppose he's the farmer, isn't he? And Frazier and Eberhart sound silly to me. Frazier and Eberhart both gained something by the fires, more business, and dad always tells me to hunt for motives. They didn't get enough business to go to all that trouble, remarked David. I'm not so sure. Then the storekeeper told me that Lemuel Adams felt spiteful towards the hunters because they made so much money out of his land. So Adams may be doing it for revenge. Hardly likely when the fires actually put money into the hunter's pockets. Well, I don't know. Anyway, I'm going to do my best to find out who did it, to clear freckles for one reason and to prevent our own bungalow from burning down for another. You needn't worry about your bungalow, said David stubbornly. Cliff Hunter hasn't any mortgage on it. Mary Louise gave him a scornful look. She stood up. I can't go canoeing with you, David, she announced. I'm driving over to Adams Farm. You can come along with me if you want to, she added grudgingly. The young man looked disappointed. You are mean, Mary Lou, he said. My vacation's nearly over. I'm being a lot nicer to you than you deserve, she replied. Letting you in on all the thrills of solving a real mystery? Well, are you coming or not? Sure I'm coming, he muttered disconsolently, but he gazed longingly at the river and wished it were a canoe and not a car in which they were to spend the afternoon. Remembering the farmhouse where Hattie Adams had said she lived, Mary Louise turned off the drive beyond Shady Nook into a dirt road which wound around to the top of a hill. She was going slowly, in second gear, when a strange looking creature in a gray dress darted out from the bushes into the direct path of the car. With a gasp of horror, Mary Louise ground down her brakes, missing the woman by only a couple of inches. What did you do that for? shouted David. The woman looked up and smiled innocently at the two young people in the car. Her eyes were vacant and expressionless. Her gray hair hung about her face and tangled curls, tied with a faded blue ribbon in a childish fashion. And under her arm she lugged an immense china pitcher, the kind that is used in the country for carrying water to the bedrooms. She was indeed a strange looking person, probably the same woman the boys had noticed on the road the night before. You better move out of the way, called David. The woman wagged her head confidently. Evidently, she had no idea of the danger she had just escaped. I'm looking for well water, she said. Well water to put out the dreadful fires. Fires, repeated Mary Louise sharply. Yes, fires, the Lord said in his holy book that he would burn down the cities of pleasure because of the sins of the people. But I am sorry for the little children. I must help put out the fires with pure water from a well. I am Rebecca at the well. Mary Louise was horror stricken. This woman might indeed be the fire bug whom she and Jane had considered as a possibility. Although she seemed to want to put fires out, perhaps she lighted them first for that very purpose. I'm sorry, but we don't know where there is a well, she replied. But tell us where you live Rebecca, we'll take you home. The woman shook her head. No, no, I can't go home, I must find water. There will be a fire tonight and I must be ready to put it out. I must go. Where will the fire be tonight? demanded Mary Louise apprehensively. I don't know, one of those wicked cottages where the people go about half-clad and where they dance and feast until past midnight. I can't tell you upon which the Lord's anger will descend but I know it will come, I know it. I must get water, pure water. I can't have innocent children burn to death. But who are you? repeated Mary Louise. I am Rebecca and I'm going to meet my bridegroom at the well, my Isaac. Her eyes gleamed with happiness as she trotted off down the hill, carrying that ridiculous picture in her hand. David and Mary Louise sat still, looking at each other in speechless wonder, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry at the poor deluded woman. But she seems happy, remarked David. So I guess we needn't pity her. She's like that bride in the Dickens book, said Mary Louise. The woman who was deserted on her wedding day and wore her wedding dress all the rest of her life, expecting her bridegroom to come back. Remember? That always gave me the creeps. But this woman is happier. She's sure she's going to meet her Isaac at a well, he laughed. No, I think we're more to be pitied than she is, for if she goes around setting fire to people's places, she ought to be locked up. Yet that seems a shame if she does happen to be harmless. Mary Louise stepped on the starter. Well, let's go on up to the Adams. Maybe they can tell us who she is. They continued on up the hill to the farm and left the car at the entrance to the front yard, just outside the picket fence. The Adams place was a neat looking frame house, painted white and pleasant to look at. A big porch surrounded it on all sides, and here they saw Hattie Adams, seated in a rocking chair sewing. She waved to Mary Louise. Hello, folks, she called genially. Come on up, any news? No, we haven't, replied Mary Louise as she sat down. But I did want to ask you what you knew about the fire, Hattie, because Mr. Flick is sort of blaming my brother and the other small boys, and I know they didn't start it. So will you tell us when you left Flick's and all you know about it? Hattie nodded solemnly. Well, let me see, she began. We had supper at half past five last night, didn't we? And everybody was through eating about quarter to seven, even Miss Flick. The other two hired girls helped me wash some of the dishes and then Mr. Flick drove them over to the junction. He come back from Miss Flick about half past seven, I reckon. They put the car away and went to the picnic in a boat. I was just finishing washing dishes. Did you see the boys or anybody around at all, questioned Mary Louise. Nary a soul. Everybody went to the picnic as far as I know. I expected to go home, get fixed up and get my brother Tom to row me over, but he wasn't anywhere around when I got back and I didn't feel like getting the boat and going all by myself, so I just stayed home with Dad. I never knew a thing about the fire till I went over this morning as usual to work at Flick's. Your brother or your father didn't know anything about it either? Dad didn't, I don't know about Tom, I didn't see him. He was off milking the cows when I got up and I left before he came in for his breakfast. I usually get it and set it on the table and then run down to Flick's quick as I can. But Miss Flick never cares if I don't get there early because we haven't many people for breakfast. And that's all you know? Yes, except what I heard this morning at Shady Nook, same as you heard. Mary Louise sighed. She didn't feel as if she were making any progress. She wanted to ask more about Hattie's father, Lemuel Adams, but she didn't know how. And about this brother Tom too. If he had been away from the farm last night, maybe he was responsible for setting the inn on fire. Instead, however, she inquired about the strange creature who wandered about the countryside with her big picture under her arm. Do you know a woman with gray hair who calls herself Rebecca Hattie? She asked. We almost ran over her half a mile down the road. She stepped right in front of our car. The other girl laughed. Rather, she said. Rebecca's my sister. She's never been right, but she's perfectly harmless. So we let her wander about as she wants. She wouldn't hurt a kitten. But do you think she could be setting the places on fire? No, replied Hattie positively. Rebecca's afraid of fires. She always wants to put him out. No, I wouldn't blame her. Mary Louise sighed and stood up. I certainly wish we could find out what is the cause before anything else happens, she said. I wouldn't worry about it if I was you, returned Hattie. They can't do anything to your brother without proof. It's lots worse for me. I've lost my job, and so has my brother Tom. He used to pick up a lot of work at odd times for Mr. Flick. Mary Louise stared in surprise. She'd never thought of this angle of it. Here were two people who actually lost out by the fire. Surely this fact proclaimed the innocence of the entire Adam's family, with the possible exception of Rebecca. Did you need the work, Hattie? She asked, gazing around at the big farmland that stretched out on all sides of the house. Oh, we won't starve without it, but it meant spending money for Tom and me and extra clothes. Besides, I liked it. It's awful dull living on a farm with only the chores to do. I'd go to the city and get a job if there was any, but I know there ain't. Maybe Mr. Frasier will give you a job at the Royal Hotel, suggested Mary Louise, now that he has more business, because I understand that most of the shady Nook people are going to eat there. Hattie wrinkled her nose. I hate that guy, but I suppose I will ask him. It's better than nothing. Tom goes every other day with butter and eggs and milk, so it would be easy to get there. Well, good luck to you, was Mary Louise's parting hope. We'll be getting on. I'd like a swim this afternoon. David McCall's eyes brightened. They were going to have some fun after all. We'll get into our suits and go out in the canoe, said Mary Louise as she directed the car towards Shady Nook. Maybe we can find Jane and Cliff and all go in together. The young man sighed. Always this Clifford hunter had to share his good times. But it was better than nothing, and later on when the couple found not only Jane and Cliff, but the Robinson boys and the Reed twins, he had to admit that his afternoon had turned out pleasantly after all. End of chapter seven. Chapter eight of The Mystery of the Fires by Edith Lavelle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Danger. Freckles, said Mary Louise at supper that evening. Will you lend us your tent tonight? Jane and I want to sleep outside. Jane raised her eyebrows. She couldn't remember expressing any such desire, but she said nothing. She wanted to see what Mary Louise was up to now, for her chum must have some purpose in the request, something to do with the mystery of the fires. It couldn't be just a desire for fresh air. I suppose so, agreed her brother, but you know my cot isn't very wide. Oh, we'll manage all right, returned Mary Louise, and thank you very much. It was not until after supper while the girls were waiting for their boyfriends to come that Jane had a chance to ask Mary Louise why she wanted to sleep outdoors tonight. I want to sleep in my clothing, Jane, was the surprising reply. Remember the scout motto, be prepared, that's ours for tonight. Prepared for what? For a fire, I think there's going to be one. I'm only hoping that it won't be our cottage, but you never can tell. What makes you think there will be one tonight? demanded Jane. From something I learned this afternoon from that Adam's family, you remember hearing Freckles describing a queer creature he saw last night on his way home from the woods? Well, we almost ran her over this afternoon with her picture looking for well water to put out the fires which the Lord sends upon the wicked were her words. Jane giggled, you think we're as wicked as that, Mary Lou? She asked, you know I don't believe that, Jane. Then what do you believe? Why do you think that there will be another fire? I think that either this crazy woman sets the cottages on fire herself believing that she is appointed by the Lord or else that somebody she knows is doing it and she has inside information somehow. More likely she's just praddling, remarked Jane. I hope so, but anyhow, I want to be prepared to jump at the first sign of smoke. I'm going to rig up a hose with the river so that I can put it out if it does happen around our cottage. You sound almost as crazy as the old lady, Mary Lou. Next thing you'll be taking your picture out for river water. Now, Jane, be yourself. You'll sleep out with me, won't you? I suppose so, but let's keep silky with us in case one of those gypsies comes along and grabs you the way she did at Dark Seeders. There aren't any gypsies anywhere around here, Mary Louise assured her. No, but there's a tramp, Frackel saw him and a crazy woman and from the way Mr. Flick was carrying on this morning, he'll soon be crazy. He's gone to Albany and the crazy woman is harmless, but you're wise about silky. He will protect us from any tramps that might show up. To Mary Louise's delight, Mrs. Gay raised no objection to the plan. After all, her daughter often slept outdoors before, so after a pleasant evening of games and dancing at the Reed's Cottage, the two girls went out to the tent. You forgot your pajamas, Mary Louise, called Mrs. Gay as she fixed up the girls' room for Frackel's. Oh, of course, replied her daughter. No need to alarm her mother by telling her that they intended to sleep in their clothing. They took off their shoes, changed into sweaters and skirts, and climbed into the cottage. Silky lay down on the rug beside it. It is close quarters, whispered Jane, but nothing like that could keep me awake. Me either, returned Mary Louise with a yawn. Five minutes later, they were both sound asleep, entirely forgetful of fires or danger, but their rest was short. About one o'clock, Mary Louise was awakened by a soft growl from Silky. Instantly, she sat up and peered out into the darkness. It was utterly black at the opening of the tent, for the night was starless, and the trees closed out all view of the sky. Yet she perceived something light, something white, coming towards her. For one wild moment, a terrible thought took possession of her imagination. Was this indeed the angel of wrath coming to destroy their house as that queer woman had predicted? But no, common sense came to her rescue and assured Mary Louise things like that didn't happen nowadays. There must be some other explanation. It must be a horrible, inane laugh burst upon the silence of the night, wakening Jane with a cry of terror on her lips. A long arm reached through the opening of the tent, touching the girl's cot, snatching at their feet. Then another laugh followed by hysterical sobbing. Mary Louise reached for the flashlight underneath her pillow, but she was calm now. She was sure of the identity of the intruder. It must be the crazy woman. She flashed the light into the creature's face, and the woman gasped in fear. Don't harm me, please, she begged. I'm the Lord's messenger to tell you that the Smith's house is on fire. There are little children to be rescued. Go, run! I'll follow as soon as I can fill my picture. Jane and Mary Louise looked at each other in wonder. Was what she said the truth or only a figment of her crazy brain? But they didn't dare take a chance. As the poor woman said, there were children at the Smith's big house on the hill. Three children, two boys and a little girl, with only servants to look after them, and servants unlike parents too often think of their own safety first. We'll go right away, Rebecca, Mary Louise assured her as she stepped into her pumps, we're all ready. Taking only their flashlight for protection, she and Jane ran off as fast as they could go, with Silky faithfully following them. As soon as they had passed the ruins of Flix Inn, they could see the smoke rising from the hill beyond. There could be no doubt about it. Rebecca was right, the Smith's house was on fire. The girls redoubled their pace and tore up the hill. As they came nearer, they saw the flames and heard wild shouts of excitement. Then they met the Smith boys and several of the servants racing madly about. How did it start? Demanded Mary Louise breathlessly as she almost bumped into Robbie Smith. Don't know, in the back somehow, that's all wood, you know. Can they save it? Doing our best, all us men are working. He stuck out his chest proudly, evidently enjoying the adventure immensely. Money was never a thing to the Smith boys. Where's your sister? Demanded Mary Louise. Around somewhere, everybody got out safe. With her nurse, inquired Jane. No, nurse took the canoe across to the royal to phone to four corners for the fire engine. Then we better hunt up little Ethel and take care of her, asserted Mary Louise. The child was only four, anything might happen to her. Flames were rising upward from behind the house, lighting up the scene vividly, showing the chauffeur, the gardener and two maids desperately pouring water from buckets and pails. But Mary Louise did not see little Ethel. Ethel, Ethel! She cried wildly, raising her voice above the shouts of the men. Where are you? Hear me is, came a plaintive reply and a tiny head leaned out of a second story window. I come up for my dolly. A cold chill of horror crept over Mary Louise as she realized the dreadful peril of the child. But without a thought for her own danger, she dashed through the front door and up the wild smoke-filled staircase. Come to the steps, Ethel! She shrieked, her throat choking with smoke. Come here, I'll get you. Tat, too smoky! Replied the little girl, beginning to sob. Mary Louise took one desperate leap and dashed through the upstairs hall to the nursery. Grabbing the child in her arms, she groped her way back to the head of the stairs. She never knew how she reached the bottom of those steps. With her hand on the railing and her eyes tightly closed, she somehow made her slow progress. All she could remember was Jane's voice at the door as she lifted the child from her arms. Then darkness, choking for breath, silence and blessed unconsciousness. When Mary Louise finally came to, Rebecca was giving her water out of her huge pitcher and patting her shoulder gently. Speak, Mary Lou, cried Jane frantically. Oh, say, you're still alive! I'm all right, replied her chum, managing a smile. And little Ethel? She's fine, with her nurse. She's back from across the river now. Mary Louise turned her head and saw the woman at her side, clutching the child in her arms and sobbing hysterically. Other people had arrived by this time. Mr. Frazier had come over from the Royal Hotel, accompanied by Cliff Hunter, David McCall, and several other young people who were staying there. And Mr. Reed and all the Robinsons had gathered from Shady Nook. In another minute, the fire engine from Four Corners came and the volunteers got the flames under control. The front of the house was saved. Only the wooden structure at the back was completely destroyed. How did it happen? Frazier was asking the Smith chauffeur half an hour later when the crowd had finally gathered about Mary Louise. Nobody knows, replied the man. Everybody here was in bed and asleep. No signs of any prowler either. The fire just started with the back shed and spread. I was the first to wake up. David McCall looked knowingly at Mary Louise. No signs of anybody, he asked the chauffeur. No clues at all. Maybe this is a clue, interrupted one of the volunteer firemen, coming forward with a small box in his hand. I found this pack of cards right where the fire must have started, but it had dropped into a pail of water. That's why it wasn't burned. Maybe the boys were playing cards and smoking corn silk, suggested Cliff Hunter lightly. The chauffeur took the box from the fireman. No, they ain't our cards, he said as he examined them. I know ours because I've bought them for the kids. David McCall stepped nearer and uttered a sudden exclamation of surprise. Gosh, he said solemnly. Recognize them, McCall, inquired Frazier. I sure do, they're Cliff Hunters. Nobody else around here can afford to pay a dollar a pack. Look, they're monogrammed. Mary Louise glanced apprehensively at Cliff. He was holding the cards in his hand, nodding his assent. Sure they're mine, the kids must have swiped them, or maybe I lost them and they found them. I myself haven't been up here to the Smiths once this summer before tonight. Says you, muttered David McCall under his breath, but not too low for Mary Louise to hear him and be genuinely frightened. End of chapter eight. Chapter nine of the Mystery of the Fires by Edith Lavelle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The arrest. When the girls came home from the fire that night, they found Mrs. Gay and Freckles both awake and dressed. The boy was pleading with his mother to be allowed to go to the Smiths. The fires out, announced Jane, sinking wearily into the swing on the porch. Mary Lou passed out for a few minutes, too. Mrs. Gay uttered an exclamation of alarm. Oh, but I'm all right now, mother, her daughter hastened to assure her. Only I would like something hot to drink and my own bed to sleep in if Freckles doesn't mind changing again. A hot drink? Repeated her brother in amazement. Why hot? Briefly, Jane told the story of Mary Louise's daring act of heroism and Mrs. Gay hurried off to make her daughter comfortable for the night. In their own soft bed again, the girl slept soundly until nearly noon the following day. Mary Louise was vexed with herself for wasting so much time when she saw the lateness of the hour. For if she was to do anything about solving the mystery of the fires, she hadn't a single minute to lose. Have you heard any news this morning? She demanded of her brother as the family all ate their breakfast lunch together. Not much, replied the boy. We went over to see the place, of course, as soon as we were up this morning. It must have been some fire. What's left of the house isn't fit to live in. Jesus, you and Jane were lucky to be in on it. Lucky for the Smiths, amended Mrs. Gay. I shudder every time I think of what might have happened to little Ethel. Where are the Smiths now? inquired Jane. Moved over to the hotel. The chauffeur telegraphed Mr. Smith and he and Mrs. Smith are coming this afternoon with clothes and stuff. Did you see the boys this morning? Questioned Mary Louise. Yeah, replied the boy. I took the canoe across the river where they were in swimming early with the chauffeur. And couldn't they tell you anything more about the fire? Nope, Robbie said he never wakened up till he heard the chauffeur yelling at them. Then they all grabbed their clothes and ran. The nurse was sleeping in the same room with little Ethel and saw to it that the kid got out safely. And she went back for her dolly, whispered Mrs. Gay with a catch in her voice. Mother, please stop thinking about that, begged Mary Louise. Everything came out all right, so do try to forget it. I will, dear, but I think I've had enough of shady nook for one summer. I've about decided to pack up and go home tomorrow. Oh no, protested Mary Louise aghast. We can't run away. If only your father were here, he'd find out what's the cause of these disasters, but I feel so unsafe, so helpless without him. I'm going to find out, announced Mary Louise with determination in her voice. Just stay a little while till we have a chance to see what develops. I won't promise. By the way, I've decided that we'll all go over to the Royal Hotel for dinner tonight. It will be a nice change, and you girls can dance afterwards because practically everybody from Shady Nook eats there now. Everybody except the Dimars, said Mary Louise with a significant look at Jane. She said nothing further about the young couple now, but an hour later when the two girls were getting into their bathing suits, she mentioned the Dimars again. I've come to the conclusion that the criminal, the person responsible for the fires, is one of two people, she said, with the possible chance of a third. You suspect Horace Dimar, of course, asked Jane. Yes, I think everything points to him. First, he has the motive to get work for himself, to plan new houses to take the place of those that have been destroyed. If you've noticed, Jane, the three places that have been burned have all been big expensive ones, the finest at Shady Nook. The Smiths and the Hunters are rich people, well able to afford to rebuild. And Flix was such a flourishing business that anybody would naturally expect them to want to start it up again. Next, Horace Dimar had the opportunity. He was absent from the two parties which were going on when the Hunters and Flix places burned, and he could easily have slipped out last night and set Smiths on fire. And last, and most important of all, Dad often says, Dimar's the kind of man who could do it. Quiet, almost sullen, I think, and deceitful. I've never spoken two words with him, but that's my opinion. Jane nodded solemnly. Her chum's logic appeared sound. But still, she remarked, Horace Dimar isn't profiting any by these fires. Nobody seems a bit inclined to rebuild. No, not yet. But wait till the Smiths come and see whether Horace Dimar tries to chum up with them. You know Adelaide Dimar admitted that they went over to call on Mrs. Hunter after their fire, and the woman almost snubbed her. True, who's your other suspect, Mary Lou? Is it Cliff? No, positively not Cliff. In spite of that pack of cards they found over there last night, imagine Cliff Hunter setting fire to a house that had three children asleep in it. It's unthinkable. Jane breathed a sigh of relief. I'm so glad to hear you say that, she said. The other person I suspect strongly is Rebecca Adams, continued the young detective. I hate to, for she seems harmless, but you just never can tell about a half-witted person like that. She wanders around at such queer times, and then her coming here last night after predicting a fire in the afternoon looks bad. She's got to be watched. Right again, agreed the other girl admiringly. But go on, Spencer Dean. Who's your third suspect, the one you call the possible chance? The hotelkeeper, Frazier, it's meant a lot to his business. He has the motive all right, but I just can't see how he could've actually accomplished setting the places on fire. He was with us all evening, the night flicks burned down, and Cliff says he was at the hotel when the hunters cottage burned. Still, Frazier's sly, he might've managed it. I'll have to take a good look at him tonight when we go over to dinner, observed Jane, and try to size up his character. Mary Louise reached for her beach robe and stepped into her slippers. Come on, Jane, she said. We've got to hurry, or the crowd will go home before we get there. They ran out to the canoe and jumped in, paddling down the river half a mile to the spot which was generally accepted as the best swimming place near Shady Nook. Here they found about 25 people gathered on the shore, all talking in the wildest excitement, and not a single person was in the water. What's happened? demanded Jane. Anybody drowned? Another fire, asked Mary Louise. Neither, explained Sue Reed, turning to the newcomers, but something almost as bad. A detective arrived from Albany and arrested Cliff Hunter as an incendiary, I believe, he said, a person who sets things on fire. No! gasped Jane in horror. But how could he? cried Mary Louise incredulously. I mean, how could a detective from Albany know about the fires here at Shady Nook, let alone suspect Cliff? Somebody wired, said Sue. Who? demanded both girls in the same breath. Nobody seemed to be able to answer that question. All anybody knew was that Cliff had gone off in the detective's car and that his mother had insisted upon going with him. Mrs. Hunter was positive that it was all a put up job, a plot of some kind to kidnap her son. The talking died down at last and the crowd dispersed into the water, but nobody seemed to enjoy the swim that day. Discouraged and worried, Mary Louise and Jane decided to paddle back home in their canoe. All your detective work gone for nothing, lamented Jane miserably. I just like to know who's responsible for that arrest. It was such a dirty trick. I wonder if it was one of the Smith's servants. I don't know, but I'm going to find out tonight, returned Mary Louise. Thank goodness we're going to the Royal to dinner, where we'll see everybody. Keep your eyes and ears open, Jane. As soon as the girls reached their cottage, they told Mrs. Gay the startling news about Cliff Hunter. She was as much distressed as they were over the announcement, for she had known the young man so long that he seemed almost like a son. And, like the girls, she was positive of his innocence. Let's get dressed early and go over to the hotel. Maybe we can find out something there, she suggested. That's just what we're hoping, replied Jane. And believe me, if we find that the Smith chauffeur is responsible or that sneaky Frazier, it wasn't Mr. Frazier, I can assure you, interrupted Mary Louise. He'll be losing money without the hunters and their friends. No, but maybe, maybe what? Nothing, no use in making guesses in the dark. We'll wait and see. The girls went into their rooms to dress. Mary Louise was surprised to see Jane take a simple white wall out of the closet. Why, Jane, we're going to the Royal Hotel to dine and dance. Don't you want to wear your pink Georgette? Her chum shook her head. No, white's more appropriate for the way I feel tonight. I'm not in a party mood. Maybe I'd wear black if I had it. Mary Louise lowered her voice. Do you care that much about Cliff, Jane? She asked seriously. I don't know about that part of it, Mary Lou, but I do feel dreadfully. Cliff was always so carefree and happy, just like a child with his card tricks. And then for somebody to pounce down on him like that and carry him off without any chance to defend himself. Don't worry about that, Jane, interrupted Mary Louise. Don't forget that the hunters are rich and Mrs. Hunter will hire the best lawyer in the whole state of New York to defend him. Well, that's comforting, but just the same, it was a mean trick and I'm going to miss Cliff dreadfully. By the way, where was David McCall today? I didn't see him in swimming. Mary Louise frowned. Neither did I, she muttered. Jane swung about sharply. Mary Lou, you think David sent that wire, don't you? She demanded. I'm trying not to think so, responded her chum, but we'll find out tonight. The girls were ready in a few minutes, but they waited for Mrs. Gay and Freckles. They had expected to go across the river and the canoes, but Stuart Robinson stopped in to invite them to join their family in the motorboat so that there was further delay. Instead of getting off early, the party did not leave until after six. Naturally, everybody talked of the arrest on the way over, but none of the Robinsons knew who was responsible for it. Stuart blamed it upon the Smith servants. When they reached the porch of the hotel, they found it deserted. Everybody ate early at the resort. The large dining room with its pale yellow walls, its long screened windows, and its snow white tables was certainly a pleasant looking place. The floors were of polished hardwood so that when these same tables were removed, the room was fine for dancing. The space was ample too, for it was intended to accommodate a couple of hundred people at a meal. Tonight it looked fairly well filled with all the guests from Shady Nook in addition to the regular diners. Mr. Frazier himself came up and found two tables for the gays and the Robinsons. The little man looked happy and confident tonight. Please, no doubt that business was more flourishing. Is David McCall here, Mr. Frazier? Asked Jane abruptly. Yes, was the reply. He's sitting with the Smiths this evening. Mr. and Mrs. Smith arrived this afternoon. Thank you, answered Jane, without going into any explanation. Mary Louise smiled. Nothing like going right to the point, Jane, she remarked when the hotelkeeper had turned away. I mean to ask David Pointe Blank. I hope I can make him ashamed of himself if he did cause Cliff's arrest. I'm afraid you can't do that, put in Mrs. Gay wisely. These self-righteous people who feel that it is their duty to tell on others, she stopped, wondering whether she was hurting Mary Louise's feelings by speaking thus about David McCall, but her daughter was scarcely listening. I think he'll come over to see us. Mrs. Gay concluded as she gave her order to the waitress, with the Smiths. Mrs. Gay was correct in her surmise. When the Smiths had finished their dinner, they came straight to the gays' table. Mrs. Smith, a well-dressed woman of perhaps 35, though she looked much younger, put her hand on Mary Louise's arm. I can never thank you enough for saving my baby, Mary Louise. She said, all my life, I'll be grateful to you. Mary Louise smiled. I'm thankful I was there in time, Mrs. Smith. She said, Ethel is such a darling. I wish we could do something for you, Mary Lou, put in her husband. Can't you think of something you want? He was too well-bred to offer her a reward and money, the way old Miss Maddie Grant at Dark Cedars had done. All I want is to find out who really did start that fire at your house, replied the girl, because I'm sure Cliff Hunter didn't. She was staring past Mrs. Smith right at David McCall, as she said this, with scorn in her eyes. Jane couldn't keep quiet any longer. She turned angrily to the young man. Are you responsible for Cliff's arrest, David McCall? She demanded. I am, he stated calmly. I did it to protect our insurance company. It just happens that our company holds most of the insurance up here at Shady Nook, and they've paid enough already, or will pay, so I don't want any more fires. It's my duty to protect their interests. Oh yeah, retorted Jane, hot with fury. Well, you're not doing it. Cliff Hunter never started those fires, and you'll find out soon he's innocent. How, demanded David. There will be another fire just the same. We haven't got the guilty person yet. I know it. Mrs. Gay shuddered. Oh, I hope not, she exclaimed. But I believe we'll go home tomorrow. We're planning to stay on here at the Royal while we see about repairing the damage, said Mrs. Smith. But if it isn't safe... I guess the hotel's safe enough, put in her husband. It's practically fireproof. David turned nonchalantly to Mary Louise. Will you dance with me after supper, Mary Lou? He asked. It's my last night here. I'm going to Albany tomorrow. I don't believe I care to dance, replied the girl icily to Jane's infinite delight. Jane and I are going to stay with mother this evening. The party moved on, and Jane reached for her chum's hand under the table. That's telling him, she murmured in deep satisfaction. End of chapter nine.