Mary Louise by Lyman Frank Baum (top 100 books of all time checklist .txt) đ
- Author: Lyman Frank Baum
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Bub gave a gasp. He came up beside her and stared at the money. Then he turned to look at Sarah Judd.
âWhatâs up?â he demanded.
âPrivate business. Donât ask questions; youâd only get lies for answers. Go and earn your money.â
âMissâ Conant, sheâs gone to Millbank herself. Ef she sees me there, Iâll git fired. The bossâll fire me himself, anyhow, fer usinâ the car when he tolâ me not to.â
âHow much do you get a week!â asked Sarah.
âFour bits.â
âThatâs about two dollars a month. In two months the Conants will move back to the city, and by then youâll have earned four dollars. Why, Bub, itâs cheaper for you to take this five-dollar gold-piece and get fired, than to work for two months for four dollars.â
Bub scratched his head in perplexity.
âYe ainât countânâ on the fun oâ workinâ,â he suggested.
âIâm counting on that five dollarsâeight bits to a dollar, forty bits altogether. Why, itâs a fortune, Bub.â
He took out his knife, looked around for a stick to whittle and, finding none, put the knife in his pocket with a sigh.
âI guess Will Morrison wouldnât like it,â he decided. âPut up yer money, Sairy.â
Sarah withdrew the gold-piece and put a larger one in its place.
âThere,â she said; âletâs make it ten dollars, and save time.â
Bubâs hesitation vanished, but he asked anxiously:
âTainât goânâ to do no harm to them gals thetâs stoppinâ here, is it?â
âIt is to do them a good turn that Iâm sending this telegram.â
âHonor bright?â
âHope to die, Bub.â
âAll right; Iâm off.â
He folded the letter, placed it inside his Scotch cap and stowed the money carefully in his pocket.
âDonât let any of the folks see you if yon can help it,â warned Sarah; âand, whatever happens, donât say anything about that telegram to a living soul. Onlyâsee that itâs sent.â
âIâm wise,â answered Bub and a moment later he started the car and rolled away down the road.
Sarah Judd looked after him with a queer smile on her face. Then she went back to her kitchen and resumed her dish-washing. Presently a scarcely audible sound arrested her attention. It seemed to come from the interior of the Lodge.
Sarah avoided making a particle of noise herself as she stole softly through the dining room and entered the main hallway. One glance showed her that the front door was ajar and the door of the den closedâexactly the reverse of what they should be. She crept forward and with a sudden movement threw open the door of the den.
A woman stood in the center of the room. As the door opened she swung around and pointed a revolver at Sarah. Then for a moment they silently faced one another.
âAh,â said the woman, with an accent of relief, âyouâre the servant. Go back to your work. Mrs. Conant told me to make myself at home here.â
âYes, I know,â replied Sarah sarcastically. âShe said she was expecting you and told me it wouldnât do any harm to keep an eye on you while youâre here. She said Miss Lord was going to get all the family away, so you could make a careful search of the house, you being Miss Lordâs maid, Susanâotherwise known as Nan Shelley, from the Washington Bureau.â
Susanâs hand shook so ridiculously that she lowered the revolver to prevent its dropping from her grasp. Her countenance expressed chagrin, surprise, anger.
âI donât know you,â she said harshly. âWho are you?â
âNew at the game,â replied Sarah Judd, with a shrug. âYou donât know me, Nan, but I know you; and I know your record, too. Youâre as slick as they make âem, and the one who calls herself Agatha Lord is just an infantile amateur beside you. But go ahead, Nan; donât let me interrupt your work.â
The woman sank into a chair.
âYou canât be from the home office,â she muttered, staring hard at the girl. âThey wouldnât dare interfere with my work here.â
âNo; Iâm not from the home office.â
âI knew,â said Susan, âas soon as I heard the story of your coming, that it was faked. Iâd gamble that you never saw Mrs. Morrison in your life.â
âYouâd win,â said Sarah, also taking a chair.
âThen who could have sent you here?â
âFigure it out yourself,â suggested Sarah.
âIâm trying to. Do you know what weâre after?â
âA clew to Hathaway. Incidentally, any other information concerning him that comes your way. That includes the letter.â
âOh. So you know about the letter, do you?â asked Susan.
âTo be sure. And I know thatâs what youâre here for now. Donât let me interrupt you. Itâs a mighty hard job, finding that letter, and the folksâll be back by and by.â
âYouâre right,â exclaimed the woman, rising abruptly. âGo back to your work in the kitchen.â
âThis is my occupation, just now,â retorted Sarah, lolling in her chair. âGo ahead with your search, Nan, and Iâll tell you when you are âhotâ or âcold.ââ
âYouâre an impudent little chit,â said Nan tartly. âSee here,â with a sudden change of voice, âletâs pool issues. If we can discover anything important in this place, thereâs reward enough for us all.â
âI am not opposing you,â protested Sarah Judd, âIâm not a particle interested in whether you trace Hathaway or not. I donât believe you can do it, though, and that letter youâre so eager for wonât help you a bit. It was written ten years ago.â
âThat makes it more important,â declared the other, âWeâve two things to accomplish; one is to locate Hathaway, and the other to secure absolute proof of his guilt.â
âI thought he was caught doing the job.â
âSo he was, in a way. But the Department needs more proof.â
Sarah Judd smiled unbelievingly. Then she chuckled. Presently she laughed outright, in genuine merriment, as the thought that amused her grew and expanded.
âWhat foolsââ she said, âwhat perfect foolsâwe mortals be!â
All this annoyed Nan Shelley exceedingly. The successful woman detective did not relish being jeered at by a mere girl.
âYouâve read the letter, I suppose, and are now making fun of me for trying to get it? Perhaps youâve hidden it yourselfâalthough that isnât likely. Why canât you give me an honest tip? Weâre both in the same line, it seems, and both trying to earn an honest living. How about that letter? Is it necessary for me to find it?â
âIâve read it,â admitted Sarah, âand I know where it is. You might perhaps find it, if you hunted long enough, but it isnât worth your while. It wouldnât help in the least to convict Hathaway and of course it couldnât tell you where he is now hiding.â
âIs this straight?â
âTrue as gospel.â
âThen why donât you prove it by showing me the letter?â
âBecause I donât belong on your side of the fence. Youâre working for one organization and I for another. Any little tip I let slip is just for your personal use. Donât bother about that letter.â
Susanâor Nan Shelleyâsat for a time in thought. Once in a while she would cast a furtive glance around the room and its wall covered with trophies, and then she would turn to Sarah Juddâs placid face.
âWhere did the boy go? âshe asked abruptly.
âWhat boy?â
âBub; in the automobile.â
âTo Millbank.â
âWhat for?â
âTo send a telegram.â
âYour report?â
âYes.â
âImportant?â
âI think itâll bring things to a climax.â
âThe Hathaway case?â
âYou can guess anything, Nan, if you guess long enough.â
Nan rose and put the revolver in her pocket. Then she held out her hand frankly to Sarah Judd.
âIf youâve beaten me in this affair,â she said, with no apparent resentment, âyouâre clever enough to become famous some day. Iâm going to take your advice about the letter and if that climax youâre predicting arrives on schedule time Iâll not be sorry to quit this dreary, dragging case and pick up a more interesting one.â
The tone was friendly and frank. Sarah stretched out her hand to meet that of Nan and in a flash a handcuff snapped over her wrist. With a cry she drew back, but a dextrous twist of her opponentâs free hand prisoned her other wrist and she at once realized that she was fairly caught.
âFine!â she cried admiringly, as she looked at her bonds, âWhat next, Nan?â
But Nan was too busy to talk. She deftly searched the girlâs pocket and found the notebook. The shorthand writing caught her eye at once but the characters were unknown to her.
âCipher, eh?â she muttered.
âA little code of my own invention,â said Sarah.â Sometimes I canât make it out myself.â
Nan restored the book and examined Sarah Juddâs purse.
âThey keep you well supplied with funds, it seems.â
âComes handy in emergencies,â was the reply.
âNow letâs go to your room.â
Sarah, handcuffed, led the way. Nan Shelley made a wonderfully rapid search through every article in the maidâs room. The lining of her clothes was inspected, her hair-brush tested for a sliding back, the pictures on the wall, the rug and the bed-clothing examined minutely. Yet all this consumed but a brief period of time and resulted in no important discovery.
âFeel better?â asked Sarah cheerfully.
âYou know I do. Iâm going to remove these handcuffs, now, and then Iâm going home. Come and see me, some time when you feel lonesome. Iâve only that fool Agatha to talk to and Iâve an idea you and I might interest each other.â
As she spoke she unlocked the manacles and dropped them with a slight click into a concealed pocket of her dark skirt.
âI imagine Agatha isnât REAL brilliant,â returned Sarah; âbut neither am I. When Iâm your age, Nan, I hope to be half as clever. Just now you can twist me around your finger.â
Nan regarded her seriously.
âI wish I knew what you are up to,â she remarked suspiciously. âYou can scarcely conceal your joy, my girl, and that proves Iâve overlooked something. Youâve puzzled me, youngster as you are, but you must remember that Iâm working in the dark while some mysterious gleam of knowledge lights your way. Put us side by side, on the same track, and I wouldnât be afraid of you, Sarah Judd.â
âDonât apologize, Nan; it makes me feel ashamed.â
Nanâs frown, as she looked into the blue eyes, turned to a smile of appreciation. Sarah also smiled, and then she said:
âLet me make you a cup of tea before you go.â
âA good idea. Weâre friends, then?â
âWhy not? One friend is worth a thousand enemies and itâs absurd to quarrel with one for doing her duty.â
âThatâs what OâGorman is always saying. Ever hear of OâGorman?â
âYes; heâs one of the old stand-bys in the secret service department; but they say heâs getting old. Slipped a good many cogs lately, I hear.â
âHeâs the Chiefâs right hand man. OâGorman used to have this caseâthe branch of it Iâm now workingâbut he gave it up and recommended the Chief to put me on the job. Said a woman could trail Mary Louise better than any man and with less chance of discovery; and he was right, for Iâve lived half a block from her in Dorfield and she never saw my face once. But OâGorman didnât suspect you were coming into the case and the thingâs getting altogether too complicated to suit me.â
Sarah was brewing the tea and considered an answer unnecessary. The conversation drifted away from the Hathaway case and into less personal channels. When Nan Shelley finally rose to go there was sincere
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