The Mystery of the Secret Band

“Pauline Brooks!” repeated Mrs. Hilliard in amazement. “But tell me how you know!”

“The detective at the Bellevue and I caught them in men’s clothing, trying to rob another guest at the hotel. Remember – I thought it was a man who stole my watch, though he did seem awfully small? Well, it was Pauline, and she was dressed up the same way last night!”

“You’re the cleverest girl I ever met, Mary Louise! How did you ever come to suspect those girls?”

“I’ll tell you the whole story later – when I have more time, Mrs. Hilliard. I’ve got to be off now, after some evidence to prove that they were the thieves who did the stealing here. You see, they’re in jail now for what they did at the Bellevue, but I have nothing to prove they were guilty of the robberies at Stoddard House.”

“But what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try to find the leader of their gang and find the treasure chest. And that reminds me, I want the names of those two transients who were here when you missed the vase and the silverware.”

Mrs. Hilliard searched for them in her book, and Mary Louise copied them, although she had little hope that they would help her. The way these girls changed names with each change of residence made it extremely baffling.

“Where do you expect to look for the leader of this gang?” asked the manager.

“I’m going to drive up to Center Square again, right now. In a hired ‘drive it yourself’ car.”

“Isn’t that where you got that blow on your head?”

“Yes, but you needn’t worry about me this time, Mrs. Hilliard. I’m going to get a policeman to go with me to the empty house.”

“Wise girl… But I believe you’d be wiser still, Mary Louise, if you just dropped the thing now and went home for Christmas. You’ve certainly earned your pay, and we can feel that our troubles are over. I can give the guests some assurance that they will not be robbed again. Won’t you go, dear? Your family will be wanting you.”

“Oh no, Mrs. Hilliard – thank you just the same. But I couldn’t think of it. I want to recover the stolen goods and get more proof against those two girls. I couldn’t give up now!”

“Well, then, be very careful!”

“I’ll be back in time for supper,” she promised.

Mary Louise went directly to the nearest agency and hired a car. Not a new car, but one which ran smoothly and which she found no difficulty in operating. The day was warm for December, and sunny; the snow was gone; it would be jolly to spend the whole day out-of-doors. Of course, it would have been nicer if Jane or Max were with her, but Mary Louise had so much to think about that she did not mind being alone.

Wasn’t it funny, she mused, that the very first guest she had met at Stoddard House had been the guilty person? How thankful she was that she had not given in to that impulse to make Pauline Brooks her confidante! Perhaps, if she had, Pauline would not have stolen her watch. Yet, without that misfortune, Mary Louise might never have solved the mystery.

She drove along at an even speed, following her map and watching for the landmarks she had noticed on her previous trip. About noon she arrived at the hotel where she and Max had eaten dinner on Sunday evening, and she drew the car to a stop at its entrance.

The same clerk was at the desk; he remembered Mary Louise and asked immediately how her head was.

“It’s almost well,” she replied. “But I want to visit that house again and find out who lives there and what hit me.”

“To collect damages?”

“No, not specially. But there is something mysterious about that house, and I’d like to see it in broad daylight. This time I want to take a policeman with me. Have you any in Center Square?”

“We have a constable. He might be willing to go along.”

“Would you be kind enough to ring him up and ask him to come here while I eat my lunch in the dining room? After all, he has a right to help me find out what hit me.”

“Sure, I will, miss. And he’ll be glad to come. He’s mighty obliging. Besides, he ain’t got much to do.”

Mary Louise was hungry, and she enjoyed her lunch immensely. The food wasn’t dainty like the Stoddard House, or fancy, like the Bellevue, but it was wholesome and well cooked, and the keen air had given her a good appetite.

When she had finished eating and returned to the main room of the little country hotel, she found the officer waiting for her. He was a stout, middle-aged man with a pleasant smile, and he wore a baggy gray suit with a stringy tie. He was very much interested in the story of Mary Louise’s previous visit to Center Square, and of her reason for wanting to see the ugly woman again who was occupying the house.

“Of course, what I’m hoping for,” concluded Mary Louise, “is to catch her with the stolen goods and have her arrested. But she may not be the person I’m looking for at all, because I saw her in the dark with only a lighted candle behind her.”

“What is her name?”

“Mrs. Brooks is the only name I know her by. But I’ve learned that criminals have half a dozen names, so you can’t go by that. There isn’t anybody by that name around here, is there?”

The man shook his head.

“No, there ain’t. But let’s drive to the house you mean, and I can tell you who owns it. And maybe tell you something about the people that live there.”

“I don’t believe anybody really lives there,” replied Mary Louise. “It’s all boarded up.”

They got into Mary Louise’s hired car, and she turned off the main highway into the dirt road which she and Max had explored. Here it was difficult for Mary Louise to find her way, because on the former occasion it had been dark, and snow had covered most of the ground. She drove along slowly, past the empty house they had first visited, until she came to the hill and the place with the steep driveway. She remembered the house now; there was the tree under which Max had parked, and the barn beyond. A huge sign bearing the words “No Trespassing – Private Property” had been erected since her former visit.

“This place belongs to a Mrs. Ferguson of Baltimore,” announced the constable. “She’s a widow with two daughters. They never live here, but once in a while she brings a bunch of girls here for a house party. She’s wealthy – always comes in a car and brings a couple of servants.”

“Ferguson,” repeated Mary Louise, wondering where she had heard that name before. But she had heard so many new names in the past few days that she could not place it. “Could you describe her?” she inquired.

“Can’t say as I could. Never saw her close. She dresses stylish, I know that, and has nothin’ to do with the country folks around here.”

Mary Louise brought the car to a stop and parked it some distance from the house, cautiously avoiding the trees this time. Even though she had a constable with her, she wasn’t taking any chances of being hit again.

“That’s the tree we were parked under,” she pointed out, “where I got hit in the head.”

“Did you see anybody?”

“No. But my friend said afterward he heard somebody laugh. But he couldn’t wait to investigate, because he had to get me to a doctor.”

“Maybe it was just a bad boy. We have some young bums around here once in a while.”

Mary Louise got out of the car, and the constable followed her, making a tour of the outside of the house, examining the boarded windows, trying the locked doors. Apparently it was deserted.

“I’d love to get inside,” remarked Mary Louise. “Couldn’t we break in?”

“Not without a warrant,” replied the officer. “We ain’t got any real evidence against this lady. You can’t tell what hit you, and besides, you was trespassin’ on private property.”

Mary Louise sighed. Evidently there was nothing she could do here. She might as well go back to Philadelphia.

It had been rather a useless waste of time, she thought, as she drove along towards the hotel. She had learned only one fact – the name of the owner of that empty house. “Ferguson,” she kept repeating to herself, wondering where she had heard that name before. And then it came to her – in a flash. Ferguson was the name of the woman who had helped Margaret Detweiler at the department store!

Mary Louise laughed out loud.

“So I’m on the track of the wrong mystery,” she thought. “Oh, well, if I could find Margaret Detweiler I’d be happier than if I got back all that money stolen from Stoddard House. So my day really hasn’t been wasted.”

When she arrived at her hotel she literally smelled Christmas in the air. The windows were hung with wreaths; holly and mistletoe and evergreen decorated the rooms on the first floor. Everybody seemed to be hurrying around with a pleasant holiday air of excitement, carrying packages and making last-minute plans for the great day.