 CHAPTER 1 OF THE MYSTERY OF THE FIRE This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Scano. The Mystery of the Fires by Edith Lavelle. The Burnt Bungalow. 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 a 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 Seeders? demanded Jane. I never have enough, returned the other girl. Well, please don't dig up anything to spoil our vacation at Shadynook. 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 a big summer resort. Just the mountains and the woods and the lovely Hudson Tree. Only half a dozen bungalows so that everybody knows everybody else. It's also friendly and nice. The nice shunt 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 Shadynook, 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 Shadynook people and a few boarders. Very nice and informal. Everything jumped up and started down the steps across the lawn that separated the gay's 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 has shined. Left 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 puts his hand upon his daughter's shoulder and said to his wife, I am 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 Shadynook. 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. Shadynook 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. Shadynook 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 inn 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 out of the 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, will 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 gaze 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 the quaint little tea-room on the roadside, she was perfectly willing to exchange places with her mother, and enjoyed a better opportunity to look at the scenery. Jane, however, was more interested in Shadynook than in the country through which they were passing. She asked innumerable questions. How many bungalows did you say there are, Mary Louise? 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 and paddles and dances and plays tennis. Besides, there are always extra young people boarding at flicks for short 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 Shadynook. 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 Shadynook. 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? They ain't 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 like Cliff Hunter a lot. Everybody does. But we don't pair off much at Shadynook. 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 other families with young people? The Reeds are about the jolliest family at Shadynook, 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 chumps up with and a little girl. I'm afraid I'll never be able to keep all those names straight. Side Jane, wait till we get there and you meet them one at a time, advice 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 Shadynook. 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 the tin garage. A back door. Why, we were right in the woods, cried Jane, still unable to see the gay's cottage. Wait till you see the bungalow return 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, there were all out of the car, following Mrs. Gaye around to the front of the cottage, up to the screech 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 nuke, 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 the tent. In a good weather, added Mrs. Gaye. Now girls, suppose we just unpack one suitcase apiece and get ready for dinner. We're going over to Flicks, of course. I've 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 Flicks 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 Shadynook all summer. And where's 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 here. She paused at the 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 burnt down, cried Freckles, dashing up behind the girls. I didn't have a chance to tell you. About a week ago, Lara Reed said, awful, mysterious, in the night. Burned down, repeated Mary Louise, rushing in through the trees beside the path. Honestly? See for yourselves, replied her brother. A few steps more, and they saw for themselves that it was only two 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 charged stones of its foundation. Boy, don't I wish I'd been here, exclaimed Freckles regretfully. It must have been so far. But 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? Ask 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 over at a dance at the Royal Hotel across the river. Maybe we'll hear more about it at Flicks. 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 Shadynook, all except one, took their lunches and soaps at Flicks. Beside them, there 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. Flick, 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 in business. Explain Mrs. Gay. So, we brought Mary Louise's friend Jane Patterson in his place. Mrs. Flick, this is Jane. Happy to see you, Miss Jane. We turned 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 Shadynook. When the order had been given, Mary Louise repeated her question. It happened a week ago, on a Saturday. Explain Mrs. Flick. 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 Shadynook to notice. Everybody, except Pa and me, went to the dance, and we were sound asleep. Hattie came back with the soup, and Mrs. Flick 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, Merlew? Do you see him? The other girl glanced tasteily 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. Now, that's David McCall. He usually comes up just for two weeks' vacation and stays here at Flicks. 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 he'd never come, Merlew, he exclaimed. A whole week of my vacation is gone. But you have another week, don't you, David? Yes, omisly 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 slightly. 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 insurance. Was the surprising reply. And turning about, David McCall went back into the boarding house. End of Chapter 1. Recording by Mary Escano. Chapter 2 of The Mystery of the Fires. The slipperbox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Mary Escano. 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 Shadynook. 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 him. 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, Merleau. He called as he came towards the porch. Heard you were here. He was held 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, Merleau. 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 humor 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 seemed 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 Shadynook went across too. The Reed family, the partridges, the robinsons. Practically everybody except the Flicks. So you see, Shadynook was deserted. We danced till around twelve o'clock, and had something to eat. Then the fellow suggested we all get into the launch, and go for a ride. Mother was gay. She went along too. And so did a couple of the girls. But at the time we took them back to the hotel and came home. It must have been two o'clock. Haven'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 when there was, blew the other way. Even when you reached your own dock, didn't you smell smoke? Demanded Merlew. Yes, we did then. But the flames were all out. The bungalow's 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. The bungalow gone. All but the foundation stones. What in the world did you do? Asked Jane. Went over to the partridges. They're the people who lived 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 fellows slept in the living room. That was okay. But it was pretty ghastly. Losing everything at once. Especially the clothes and things that belonged 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 Merlew. She was thinking about 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 you summer outfits, we came back here and took a seat at the Royal. We expect to stay there all summer. Why not Flicks? Was Merlew'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 Merlewis. 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. 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 he 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 at our table at Flicks said he tried to pay her $2 a week and excused himself by telling her she'd make a lot of tips. She gets ten at Flicks. A man like that deserves to fail, agreed Jane. To get back to the subject of the fire, said Merlewis 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 Royale. But they're all full of mischief. Maybe they were smoking corn silk in our garage. Oh, I hope not, exclaim Mrs. Gay, for her son played a great deal with the Smith boys. Tell Frickles 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. Merlewis 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, things to place was set on fire, on purpose, by Dittmar. Dittmar? Who is he? 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 selling fire to her cottage? Asked Jane. That's easy, replied Merlewis. 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 is 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 let the place to be, and all this land up here at Shadynook 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 Shadynook a lot better. Oh, well. He can come over as much as you like, said Merlewis. Which is what I intend to do. And that reminds me, one of the things I came to talk to you about, as well as 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? What a price for the best decorated of each kind. Then we'll have a feed and play games. That's great, cried Jane enduciastically. While we go in, Merlew, the canoe. I thought maybe you girls would come in my motorboat. And lose the chance of winning a prize? interrupted Merlewis. That's just the same clip, but I've got an idea already. David McCall was coming up the porch steps just in time to hear their refusal, and he grinned broadly. This was just as it should be, he thought, looking possessively at Merlewis. Tall and dark and handsome, David McCall was indeed the contrast to Clifford Hunter in appearance. But Jane had already decided that she did not like him. Nobody twenty-two years old had any right to be so serious, even if he had been supporting himself for five years. Merlewis 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 sun's fading. We ought to be out on the river, or in it, if you prefer. He added, addressing Merlewis. Clifford, disappointed, put his cards away. You can show me all your tricks tomorrow, whispered Jane sympathetically. I loved them. It's a date, exclaimed Cliff eagerly. Merlewis 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 Merlewis 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 spell of the night, joined happily in the singing. Merlewis, 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 Shadynook. I think it's pretty nice myself, replied the other with a yawn. If only poor Cliff's bungalow hadn't burned down. Tell me, urged Jane, which boy you really like best, Cliffhunter, or David McCall, or Max Miller? Merlewis 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, Merlewis 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 gotta think of it, said Merlewis. 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? Yon Jane, as she crept sleepily, into her cot. End of Chapter 2 Recording by Mary Escano Chapter 3 of The Mystery of the Fires by Edith Lavelle This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Mary Escano The Ditmar's Freckles exclaimed Mary Louise as she entered the kitchenette of the bungalow the following morning. Where are you going? Good 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 his 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 canned meals, haven't we? And we 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 boat house and almost left him there all night? Jesus, 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. No, sis. Don't be silly. Everybody's in the gang together. I've got to play with the Smith boys, or else stay home by myself. What the elf could buy 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 sort of promised Cliff I'd go in his motorboat, Mary Louise. 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 price for each type of boat, you know. Then I shall be competing against you if I go in Cliff's launch. Oh no, we are in separate classes. As if the girls had finished washing the dishes for Mrs. Gray, they started off for a little walk with Silky at their heels. Why not stop for the read 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 Dick Mars. The Dick Mars? 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, a suspect. That's right, agreed Mary Louise. But how can we call on him if we don't know him? asked Jane. Won't find a way? Oh sure we will, teased Jane. Trust the girl detective for that. Shhh, please don't call me that in front of anybody, Jane. If people think I am 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 Dick Mars on the other was over a mile. Cliff's father, Mr. Hunter, who had planned a little resort, knew that even in 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 Inn. Yes, I remember this much from last night, nodded 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 were 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 on 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? whispered Jane. As the two girls approached, the Ditmar's rose-trestled bungalow. It looks like honeymoon cottage in a jigsaw puzzle. I understand the Ditmars 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 Shadeenook. 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 Shadeenook? 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 this bungalow to build, and the Robinson's next door. But now he can't get a thing. Maybe the hunters were rebuilt, 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 had better leave Horace here alone. Bring him along. He wouldn't come. No, a 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 two dollars 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 twenty 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 could never 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 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 fellows? 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 ten thousand dollars, 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 Lou. 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? No. 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 Lou. We have another suspect, and she told David what she had just learned about Horace Ditmar. I'm just as sure that Ditmar didn't do it as you are that Cliff Hunter didn't, replied David when she had finished. Probably nobody set 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 return 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 Shadynook, 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 eleven o'clock, and here their elders joined them, with some of the younger children. Not Freckles, however, or the Reed boys, or the Smits, that 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 Dittmars, 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 the 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 Meryl 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. It's beyond me. He's as innocent as a child. I hope so, returned Meryl Louise. Time will tell. End of Chapter 3. Recording by Meryl Skano. Chapter 4 of The Mystery of the Fires by Edith LaVelle. This Librebox recording isn't the public domain. Recording by Meryl Skano. Another fire. Everybody at Shadynook 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 Bacall and Meryl 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 Meryl 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, Meryl Louise. Mrs. Gay Voice interrupted them from the inside of the bungalow. As 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 we could only phone the smiths, sighed Meryl Louise. He's probably over there with the boys. Suppose Jane and I run over. It's too far. It'll make you late for supper. Not very late. We'll hurry. Come on, Jane. We'll be back in ten minutes. But you go on down to the inn, mother, and order the dinner. Mrs. Gay nodded, immensely relieved. What a comfort, Meryl Louise. 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 smith's 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 Meryl 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. As the date-looking butler answered the girl's ring at the door. No, miss, was his reply to Meryl 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. Meryl Louise sighed. There was nothing she could do. Well, if my brother comes back here, will he 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 Meryl Louise, disconsolidely. 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 Shadynook are being used. Even the rowboats. Everybody's going except the deadmars. Poor Adelaide deadmars sighed Jane. Imagine missing all that fun just because of a grouchy husband. I'm glad I'm single. Meryl 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 bustling excitement as the people got into the boats and pushed them out into the river. There were six canoes, four rowboats, and three motorboats, all decorated beautifully or fantastically, according to the taste of the owners. Three prizes were to be awarded for the clearest boat of each type, and everybody was to vote on the style in which he or she was not competing. Meryl 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 Fraser's rather seedy launch, and Jane was introduced to them and to Mrs. Hunter. You'll walk away with the motorboat-priced Cliff, called Meryl Louise to the young man at the wheel. She lowered her voice. Poor old Fraser's launch is pathetic, and Stuart robin's since it's just funny. I hope the prize is a deck of cards. Returned Cliff. Mine are wearing out. Meryl 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 Shadynook. 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 the 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 robins and 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's going to announce the winners. The jovial face 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 joining 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 games had been disposed of, the games began, and continued until dark. Almost everyone joined in the fun, even the middle-aged couple, all except a few who were helping Mrs. Flick prepare the refreshments, and Mrs. Hunter and the Frazers 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 Frazers. 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 Frazer who put the idea into her head that Dittmar set her cottage in fire. Because I heard him say to her, I wonder whose place will burn down tonight? Dittmar stayed home. Oh, how awful! Sh! 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, Merlew. Urged David, jealously touching her arm. We must find Mother, returned the girl. She's over there with Mrs. Hunter, and 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 Merlew's just the same. Mrs. Gay made the place for them, and the young couple sat down. You're still not worried, are you, Mother? asked Merlewese as she passed the chicken salad. I'm afraid I am, dear. If we could only see Shadynook 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. Fraser. I caught them cutting my yew-cheat to make bouts. There's nothing they can't do. Merlewese regarded the hotelkeeper 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 Merlewese in horror. David McCall nudged her meaningly. Criminals always tried to cover up their crimes by laying the suspicion on somebody else. He whispered. But only a cat would blame innocent children. Merlewese 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, eucalype. 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 twenty minutes start, suggested Cliff Hunter. And the canoes ten. We'll beat you all at that. If our engines don't give out, put in Stuart Robinson doubtfully, he never felt confident about his ancient rowboat. Suits me fine, cried Jane, realizing that the arrangement gave her twenty extra minutes to dance. The rowboats pushed off, and ten minutes later Merlewese 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. The sapphire shadey nook, he cried breathlessly. Oh! gasped Mrs. Gay in horror and turning about swiftly. Merlewese 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 Merlewese, 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 wasn't harmed. It was 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 Flick's aunt, replied the young man. It means ready cash for him. Don't be absurd, commanded Merlewese. How could Cliff have anything to do with it when he was with us all evening? Haven't you heard of a bride, Merlew? He asked. The girl did not answer. The increasing noise of the engines behind them told them that the motor boats 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. Freckles! cried Mrs. Gay in a tone of both relief and fear, relief that her child was safe, fear that he 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 the medal for his bravery. I don't believe a word of it, thundered Mr. Flick. I believe you boy set the place on fire, and now you're trying to lie out of it. I wouldn't put it past him, muttered Mr. Fraser at his side. The Fraser's had landed at Shadynook 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 Freckles. We came along here about dark, said Larry Reed, who was the oldest of the group, and smelled smoke. Of course, we investigated. The inn was gone, but the ashes were still smoldering, and there was smoke coming up from the bushes. So we ran over to Gay's and to our house, and got buckets and carried water from the river. It's about out now. You sure that's the truth, demanded Mr. Reed. On my honor, Gant, replied the boy solemnly. Did you see anybody in the woods or around Shadynook? 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 and 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. Phraser 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 hotel keeper would present them with the 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 4, Recording by Mary Scano Chapter 5 of The Mystery of the Fires The slipperbox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Mary Scano Freckle Story What in the world are you doing? Asked Jane when she came out on the porch the following morning to find her chum 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? He 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 is responsible. Jane's eyes opened wide. That's an idea, Mary Louise. There are people like that. Crazy along just one particular line. They feel they simply have to light fires. Fire bugs, 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 fire. They say lighted cigarettes start them too. And small children. Small children? But not boys as big as freckles in 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 at 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, was 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 his guy 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 some of the 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 Shadynook, past the deadmars, 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 lunch, 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 deadmars 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 this swell feed. I 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-thirty or ten, maybe? I don't know. And you saw two people on your way back, you said? Four people, really, because the deadmars 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 Dittmar might have set the place on fire himself. Just as Mr. Fraser was expecting, Mary Louise wrote something in her notebook, and Freckles continued. Then a little farther on, we met the tramp. At least we think he was a tramp, though it was too dark to see his face. He was a big man in his shabby old clothes. Overalls, I think. He was coming towards us. Away from Shadynook. Will you 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 a big picture under her arm. The moon was out then, and we got a good look at her. We all think she was crazy, kind of talking to herself as she went along. Then, as we came nearer to Shadynook, we smelled smoke, and found out it was Flick's. 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. Are you 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 he had someone to swear to the truth of it, for the people who may not believe you. Some witness, I mean. Did the Dytmar see you boys in the woods? No. When we heard their voices, and I told you she was good and mad, or beaded around another path, women murdered their husbands sometimes, you know. He added solemnly. I don't believe Mrs. Dytmar 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 tell me what you think, and whether you can add any names. Horace Dytmar, 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. Dytmar to me, or else the careless servants? replied Jane. I'd 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 Mr. at Dark Seeders, she said. Because there, he 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 nukes 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 the chance that there will be a fire. Has it occurred to you, Mary Lou, that both fires started when everybody from shady nukes 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 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 the flixin 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 Fraser 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 had 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 is David McCall staying? And the other people who are boarding at Flix? They're all over at the hotel, answered Cliff. Makes the place seem quite lively. Fraser 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. Advice, Jane. And we'll see you in swimming. End of Chapter 5. Recording by Mary Scano. Chapter 6 of The Mystery of the Fires by Edith Lavelle. The slipperbox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Mary Scano. More suspects. I told Mother Weigels would take every other day at the housekeeping, said Meryl Louise, as she backed the car out of the garage and onto the road behind the cottages. That'll give her a chance to get some rest from cooking, some vacation. He don't mind, do you, Jane? Course I don't mind, replied her chum. Maybe the family will, though. Don't you believe it? Worse well cooks, if I do say it myself. She drove the car along past the backs of the cottages, turning at the road beyond Dittmars. 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 Meryl Louise. If we should have another fire, it might spread so that it would wipe out all of Shadynook. 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 good 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 place. The girls jumped out of the car and ran inside. Jane found the place just as Meryl Louise had described it. A typical country store of the old-fashioned variety. Hello, Mr. Eberard. How are you this summer? Asked Meryl Louise. Fine, Miss Gay. Fine. You're looking well, too. But I heard you had some excitement over to Shadynook. 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. Flemereal Adams, or he's good for nothing, son, done it. Flemereal Adams, repeated Meryl Louise. Who is he, in relation to Harry Adams, who always waited on the table at Flix Inn? Yet, he's your father. You ought to know him. He's a farmer who lives up that hill. But a couple of miles from Shadynook. Well, he used to own all this ground around here, but he sold it cheap to a man named Hunter, the one who started the settlement at Shadynook. Yes, I knew him, said Meryl Louise. He was Clifford Hunter's father, but he died not long ago. So I heard. Anyway, this man Hunter got fancy prizes for his building lots, and naturally, old Lem Adams got sore, always complaining how poor he is. Now rich old Hunter got on his land, reckoned it got under his skin, maybe he decided to take revenge. Oh, Meryl Louise wanted to write the name of Lemereal Adams in her notebook then and there, but she didn't like to. Should she add Harry'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 the woods. Old man, with white hair, has a bad leg, rheumatism I reckon. He walks with a limp, explained the storekeeper. Meryl 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. Eberd. Do you think you have all those things? If I ain't, I can get in for you. Was the cheerful reply. The girls wondered idly about 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 Meryl Louise asked for the bill. None dollars and sixty-two cents. Announced Mr. Eberd, with a grin. You folks sure must like to eat. We do, agreed Meryl Louise. I suppose this will mean more business for you, or did the flecks 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 an ill wind that brings nobody luck. Yes, I'll have to be stocking up. Meryl Louise and Jane followed the boy to the car, and drove away. As soon as they were safely out of hearing, Meryl Louise said significantly. Two more suspects were in my notebook. Two? Repeated Jane. You mean Lemuel Adams and his son? I wasn't thinking of the son. Replied Meryl Louise. Though of course he's a possibility. No, I was thinking of Mr. Eberd, the storekeeper. The storekeeper! Now, Meryl Louise, your ideas are running wild. Next thing you'll be suspecting me. Maybe I do. Laughter 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 Shadynook. Your reasoning sounds good to me, Jane, approved Meryl 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. Meryl 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 Meryl Louise, you have a date too. I heard you promised David McCall you'd go canoeing with him today. I'm mad at David, objected Meryl Louise. He certainly made me furious last night. What did he do? Meryl 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, Meryl Louise. 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 at Shady Nuke, our cottage will be included. I've just got to do something to save it. And everybody else's. You know, that's counting on me. Yes, I understand how you feel, Meryl Louise. But you may be all wrong. Those 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. Meryl Louise asked him how he had made out with the flicks. Not so good, was the reply. He saw us anything. Still, he 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 Meryl Louise. I was hoping they would build some kind of shack and continue to serve meals. No, 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 Meryl Louise. She realized that she must hurry, if she meant to interview them before they left Shadynook. Mr. Flicks on his lock, and Mrs. Flicks over at the partridges. They stayed there all night in Osys. As soon as the supplies from the store were carefully stored away, the two girls walked over to the spot where the flicks in 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 toward supporting them all the year around. Meryl Louise felt sore 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, whom Meryl Louise remembered seeing from time to time around the hotel across the river. May I talk with you for a moment, Mr. Flick? Inquired Meryl Louise, as the former turned around and spoke to her. Yes, of course, Meryl Louise, he replied. I'll be with you in a minute. You really don't think the boys are responsible to you, Mr. Flick? She asked directly when he joined the girls. I don't know what to think, replied the man. You may have been an accident. That one servant girl we have is awfully careless. Which one? Hilty Adams, the one who waits on your table and washes the dishes. Hattie Adams, repeated Meryl Louise, the male 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. Meryl 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 about Lynn Adams? Inquired Mr. Flick. I don't, replied Meryl Louise quietly. But the storekeeper 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 hunters did, objected Mr. Flick. It doesn't spite the hunters one bit because they were fully insured. That's the worst of it for me. My insurance only covers my mortgage, which Cliff Hunter happens to hold. I must go that's wiped out. Oh, I'm so sorry, said Meryl Louise sympathetically. Now half as sorry as I am, he scowled. And when I go to Albany, I'm going to hunt up a lawyer. If don't Smith kids did it, their pens can't pay for the damage. Oh, but they didn't, protested Meryl 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 our reform school. There was nothing Meryl 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 partages cottage to see Mrs. Flick and found her much calmer. I blame the Adams girl, she said. Heck, he's 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. He don't really think the boys did it, do you Mrs. Flick? Inquired Meryl Louise anxiously. No, I don't, was the reassuring reply. Even 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. I'll pump Hattie and old Mr. Adams too. Good luck to you my dear, concluded Mrs. Flick. End of Chapter 6 Recording by Mary Escano Chapter 7 of The Mystery of the Fires by Edith Lavelle The slipperbox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Mary Escano The Crazy Woman Jane went off early after lunch in Cliffhunter's canoe. And Meryl 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, for 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 Meryl Louise. You're not still mad at me, Meryl Louise, 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 her crime until he had made some investigations. But it's so obvious, Meryl Louise. Hunter holds a big mortgage on one place, and 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 Meryl 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? Stabbed the girl. Then just listen to this bunch of names. She opened her notebook and read him the list. Horace Dittmar, Lemuel Adams, Eberard, the storekeeper, Fraser, a tramp the boys 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 cause. 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 Fraser and Eberard sound silly to me. Fraser and Eberard both gained something by the fires, more business. And Dad always tells me to hunt for moteds. They didn't get enough business to go to all that trouble. Remark David. I'm not so sure. Then the storekeeper told me that Lemuel Adams felt spiteful toward 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 hunters' 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 squornful 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 Louise, 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, disconsolidately, but he gazed longly 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 Shadynook into a dirt road, which wound round to the top of a hill. She was going slowly, in second gear, when a strange-looking creature in a grey 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 grey hair hung about her face, entangled 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 horrors stricken. This woman might indeed be the firebug 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 burned to death. But who are you? repeated Mary Louise. I am Rebecca, and I'm going to meet my bridegroom at the well. My eye sack. 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 eye sack at well. He laughed. No, I think we're more to be pity than she is, for 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, sowing. 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 need to know about it? Hattie nodded solemnly. Well, let me see. She began. We had to stop her 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 him over to the junction. He'd come back for Miss Flick about half past seven, I reckon. They put the car away and went to the picnic in the 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, while 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 as 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 Shadynook, 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 won't hurt 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 won'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 wills you, returned Hattie. You can't do anything to your brother without proof. It's lots worse for me. I've lost my job, and so is my brother Tom. He used to pick up a lot of work at odd times for Mr. Flick. Mary Louise stared in surprise. She had 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, in extra clothes. Besides, I liked it. It's awful dull living on a farm with only the torch to do. I'd go to the city and get a job if there was any, but I know there ain't. Maybe Mr. Fraser will give you a job at the Royal Hotel, suggested Mary Louise, now that he has more business, because I understand most of the shady-nude 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 will 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 into the canoe, said Mary Louise, as she directed the car towards Shadynook. 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 Robinson Boyce and the Reed twins, he had to admit that his afternoon had turned out pleasantly after all.