The Daring Twins

“I may have made a mistake, of course,” she answered. “But I am almost sure I counted right.”

“You took three thousand, three hundred and ninety dollars?”

“Yes, sir. Fifteen hundred in gold and eighteen hundred and ninety, in bills.”

“H-m. H – m – ! We must return that money, Phœbe.”

“Return it! Why, how can I, Judge?”

“You can’t, my dear; but I can. Let’s see. She has given you until to-morrow noon – All right.”

Phœbe drew a long breath.

“Meet me here at ten o’clock in the morning,” he added.

“Very well, sir.”

She started to rise, but he motioned her to retain her seat.

“Can you give up your room for to-night, Phœbe – perhaps for a couple of nights?”

“Why, I think so,” she said, astonished. “Perhaps I can sleep with Cousin Judith; but – ”

“We’re going to play a little game, Phœbe; but, in order to win we must keep our secret. Tell no one at home the story you have told me. Keep away from Elaine for to-night. Perhaps you’d better come over to our house and stay with Janet – Yes; do that. It will lull suspicion.”

“Are you intending to use my room, yourself?” inquired Phœbe.

“No. I want to put a detective there. I’m almost sure there will be something to see through that peephole to-night.”

“A detective!”

“A private detective; meaning Toby Clark.”

Phœbe stared at him. She had never imagined Toby could be a detective.

“And now,” continued the lawyer, briskly, “it’s all settled, cut and dried. You may go home to supper without a single worry. I’ll send Janet after you with an invitation to spend the night at our house, and Toby will take your place at home. You’ve given me proof that you’re not a bad conspirator, Phœbe, so I depend upon your wit to get Toby into your room unobserved.”

“I’ll try, sir,” she said.

“Don’t fret, my dear. We’ve got everything planned, now, and you have nothing further to fear from this strange complication.”

She could not quite understand how that might be. Whatever plans Judge Ferguson had evolved he kept closely guarded in his own bosom. But Phœbe knew she might trust him, and carried away with her a much lighter heart than the one she had brought to the lawyer’s office.

When she had gone Mr. Ferguson called Toby Clark into his private room and talked with the young man long and earnestly.

Toby was considered one of the Riverdale “characters.” He had been born in a shanty on the bank of the river, where his father had been a fisherman and his mother had helped to eke out their simple livelihood by washing for the ladies in the village. Both had died when Toby was a small boy, and for a time he did odd jobs for the storekeepers and managed in some way to keep body and soul together. He was a little fellow, even now, when he was nineteen years old. His unruly hair was a mop of tow color, and his form was not very sightly because his hands and feet seemed overgrown. Out of his whimsical, freckled face peered a pair of small, twinkling eyes, so good-humored in their expression that the boy was a general favorite. But he never had much to say for himself, although he was a keen observer and listened intently to the conversation of others.

Some years ago Judge Ferguson had taken Toby Clark into his employ, recognizing a shrewd wit and exceptional intelligence hidden beneath his unprepossessing exterior. At first, the boy went to school and took care of the judge’s furnace in winter, and his lawn and flower beds in summer. Then he was taken into the office, where he was now studying law. No one had really understood Toby except the old lawyer, and the youth was grateful and wholly devoted to his patron.

In this interview the judge told Toby exactly what he was expected to do after Phœbe had secretly introduced him into the Daring household. The entire situation was explained to him with such clearness that the amateur detective had no difficulty in understanding what was required of him.

He asked no questions, but nodded his head to show that he comprehended the situation.

“Above all,” was the final injunction, “do not lose sight of Miss Halliday. Stick to her like a burr, whatever happens; but do not let her know you are watching her. Is it all clear to you, Toby?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then run along, and be prepared to meet Phœbe at the house when Janet calls for her.”

CHAPTER XXII

MARION’S GHOST STORY

When Janet Ferguson arrived at the Eliot homestead that evening she was greeted by enthusiastic shouts from the younger Darings, with whom she was a great favorite. They surrounded her in a group before she could reach the house, while Phil came across the lawn to meet her and shake hands cordially.

Phœbe, glancing sharply around, saw Toby Clark leaning against a column of the dining room porch, where he was half hidden by the vines.

“Come!” she whispered, and led the way into the house. Halfway up the stairs she paused to look back, not hearing his footsteps; but he was so close behind that he startled her and soon she had ushered him into her own little room.

“Lock the door behind you,” said she, “and pay no attention if anyone knocks or tries to get in.”

Toby merely nodded as he shut himself in. Phœbe hurried down to join Janet, carrying a little handbag that contained the things she needed for the night.

“Why, Phœbe! where are you going?” asked Sue, seeing the bag.

“To stay with Janet. Where is Cousin Judith?”

“Over at the Randolphs.”

“Then let us go that way,” said Phœbe to Janet. “I must tell her my plans, for otherwise the Little Mother might worry.” Passing close to Phil she whispered: “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is right so far,” he replied. “But how is it with you, and why are you going away to-night?”

“Just for a little excitement,” she laughed.

“You seem nervous and excited, now,” said her brother, looking at her closely. “Anything new turned up to annoy you, Phœbe?”

“I’m quite contented to-night, Phil, dear.” And then she ran away before he could question her, further.

They met Cousin Judith just leaving the Randolph’s house, and Marion was with her. Miss Eliot at once approved Phœbe’s plan to stay with Janet for the night. She thought the girl had seemed unnerved and ill at ease lately and believed the change of environment would do her good.

When Judith had bade them good night and started across the street to rejoin her flock, Marion said:

“I’ll walk with you a little way, if you don’t mind. It’s such a lovely evening, and I’ve a mystery to disclose, besides.”

“A mystery – oh, Marion!” exclaimed Janet.

“Why are you so astonished?” asked Marion, as the three girls locked arms and sauntered up the street.