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Mystery of the Fires

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<h2 id="c4">CHAPTER IV Another Fire</h2> Everybody at Shady Nook worked all day Monday on the decorations for the boats. Everybody, that is, except Mr. and Mrs. Flick and a few of the older people, who were preparing the food for the supper on the little island that night. Jane was helping Clifford Hunter paint pieces of wood which were intended to transform his launch into an auto-giro, and David McCall and Mary Louise picked flowers and leaves all afternoon to make festoons for her canoe. “I do think Freckles and those other kids might have helped us,” she remarked as she tied on the last cluster of sunflowers. “Oh, we didn’t need them,” returned David, smiling. He had enjoyed having Mary Louise to himself all afternoon. “It’s five o’clock now. We’ll have to hurry and wash and dress. Don’t forget supper at Flicks’ is half-past tonight.” <div class="pb" id="Page_55">[55]</div> The young man nodded. “I’ll be ready, Mary Lou.” Mrs. Gay’s voice interrupted them from the inside of the bungalow. “Has anybody seen Freckles?” she called. “Not since this morning,” replied her daughter. “I tried to get him to help us, but he said he was off for the day with his gang.” “Yes, I know that. I gave him some lunch. But he ought to be home by now.” “He’ll probably be along in a minute.” But he did not come. David went back to the inn, and Mrs. Gay and the two girls dressed for the picnic, but still Freckles did not appear. “We can’t go off and leave him without any supper,” said Mrs. Gay. “Because Mrs. Flick is going to close the dining room and lock up at six-thirty.” “If we could only phone the Smiths,” sighed Mary Louise. “He’s probably over there with the boys.... Suppose Jane and I run over?” “It’s too far. It will make you late for supper.” “Not very late. We’ll hurry. Come on, Jane. We’ll be back in ten minutes. But you go on down to the inn, Mother, and order the dinner.” <div class="pb" id="Page_56">[56]</div> Mrs. Gay nodded, immensely relieved. What a comfort Mary Louise was! You never had to ask her to do anything for you. The two girls hurried away along the private road beside the river, past the Flicks’ and the Robinsons’, then turned up the hill to the Smiths’ house beyond. It was Jane’s first sight of the imposing-looking place at close range. She exclaimed in admiration. “What a marvelous house! They must be awfully rich!” “They are,” replied Mary Louise. “But they don’t appreciate this place a bit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith are hardly ever here at all in the summer. Those two boys just run wild. There’s a nurse to look after the little girl—she’s only four years old—but the boys do pretty much as they please and boss the servants around. That’s why Mother and I feel worried about Freckles when he’s with them.” A sedate-looking butler answered the girls’ ring at the door. “No, miss,” was his reply to Mary Louise’s question, “the boys haven’t been here all day.” “Did they expect to go to the picnic tonight on the island?” “Yes, miss. Steve, the chauffeur, was to take them.” <div class="pb" id="Page_57">[57]</div> Mary Louise sighed. There was nothing she could do. “Well, if my brother comes back here, will you please send him right over to the inn?” she asked. “And tell him to hurry.” The girls turned away and started back. “It’s going to spoil Mother’s evening,” remarked Mary Louise disconsolately. “Oh, he’ll be sure to turn up soon,” returned Jane reassuringly. “I know, but even if he does, he won’t be able to get to the island. All the boats at Shady Nook are being used. Even the rowboats. Everybody’s going except the Ditmars.” “Poor Adelaide Ditmar!” sighed Jane. “Imagine missing all that fun just because of a grouchy husband! I’m glad I’m single.” Mary Louise laughed. “All men aren’t alike, Jane. You know Cliff Hunter would never miss any fun. Or Max or Norman,” she added, mentioning their two best friends in Riverside. Mrs. Gay looked up hopefully as the girls entered the inn, but her expression changed immediately. She could tell from their faces that they had not been successful. <div class="pb" id="Page_58">[58]</div> After supper was over, all was bustle and excitement as the people got into the boats and pushed them out into the river. There were six canoes, four rowboats, and three motorboats, all decorated beautifully or fantastically, according to the taste of the owners. Three prizes were to be awarded for the cleverest boat of each type, and everybody was to vote on the style in which he or she was not competing. Mary Louise and David McCall stepped into their flower-covered canoe; Mrs. Gay joined the Partridges in a rowboat, and Jane waited for Cliff Hunter’s motorboat to come puffing across the river. It arrived at the same time as the Fraziers’ rather seedy launch, and Jane was introduced to them and to Mrs. Hunter. “You’ll walk away with the motorboat prize, Cliff,” called Mary Louise to the young man at the wheel. She lowered her voice. “Poor old Frazier’s launch is pathetic, and Stuart Robinson’s is just funny!” “I hope the prize is a deck of cards,” returned Cliff. “Mine are wearing out.” Mary Louise laughed and dipped her paddle into the water. Her canoe did look pretty, and it was a heavenly night. If only Freckles were there! <div class="pb" id="Page_59">[59]</div> The boats began to move off, the launches puffing ahead, the canoes gliding gently behind them, and the rowboats progressing more ponderously. Somebody began to play a ukulele, and gay voices took up the tune. The island, a small oblong strip of land, was situated about two miles down the river from Shady Nook. Several years ago someone at the resort had discovered it, and everybody had taken a hand at fixing it up for picnic purposes. There was a glorious stone fireplace, and a large spot had been cleared for dancing and games. Seats had been scattered about, and a couple of board tables had been erected near the fireplace. Tonight the whole island was alight with Japanese lanterns, giving it a gay and festive air. When the last rowboat had finally reached its destination, the crowd all gathered together on the grass near the shore to record their votes. The two Robinson boys went about collecting them. Mary Louise was sitting close to her mother, watching her intently. “The Reed boys aren’t here either,” whispered Mrs. Gay. “I was just talking to Mrs. Reed, and she said she hasn’t seen Larry or George since morning. But she doesn’t seem much worried.” <div class="pb" id="Page_60">[60]</div> “Freckles must be all right if he’s with the whole bunch,” Mary Louise assured her. “Nothing much could happen to five boys together.” Mrs. Gay forced herself to smile. “I’ll try not to worry, dear.... Oh, listen! Mr. Robinson is going to announce the winners!” The jovial-faced man, Stuart’s father, stepped forward. “First prize for rowboats goes to Sue and Mabel Reed,” he said. “Come forward, girls, and get your prize. It’s a box of tennis balls.” The twins, dressed exactly alike in blue dimity, came up together, bowing and expressing their thanks. “The prize for canoes—to Mary Louise Gay,” continued Mr. Robinson. “More tennis balls!” David McCall clapped loudly, and everybody else joined in the applause. Mary Louise was a general favorite at Shady Nook. “The prize for motorboats goes to my son Stuart for his funny-looking contraption!” <div class="pb" id="Page_61">[61]</div> Everybody clapped but Jane; she was terribly disappointed. She didn’t see why Cliff’s clever idea hadn’t taken the honors. But glancing at the young man she could detect no resentment in his face. He was a wonderful sport. After the prizes had been disposed of, the games began, and continued until dark. Almost everyone joined in the fun—even the middle-aged people. All except a few who were helping Mrs. Flick prepare the refreshments, and Mrs. Hunter and the Fraziers, 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 Fraziers. 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 Frazier who put the idea into her head that Ditmar set her cottage on fire. Because I heard him say to her, ‘I wonder whose place will burn down tonight. Ditmar stayed home!’” “Oh, how awful!” “Sh! Oh, gosh, we’re caught! Why must girls always talk?” lamented Jane. <div class="pb" id="Page_62">[62]</div> The moon came up in the sky, making the night more enchanting, more wonderful than before. The games broke up, and Mrs. Flick called the people to refreshments. “Sit with me, Mary Lou,” urged David, jealously touching her arm. “We must find Mother,” returned the girl. “She’s over there with Mrs. Hunter 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 Mary Louise just the same. Mrs. Gay made a place for them, and the young couple sat down. “You’re not still worried, are you, Mother?” asked Mary Louise as she passed the chicken salad. “I’m afraid I am, dear. If we could only see Shady Nook from here, perhaps the boys would flash their lights.” “They’re surely all right,” put in Mrs. Hunter consolingly. “They’re big enough to take care of themselves.” “I’ll say they are,” remarked Mr. Frazier. “I caught them cutting my yew tree to make bows. There’s nothing they can’t do!” <div class="pb" id="Page_63">[63]</div> Mary Louise 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 Mary Louise in horror. David McCall nudged her meaningly. “Criminals always try to cover up their crimes by laying the suspicion on somebody else,” he whispered. “But only a cad would blame innocent children.” Mary Louise cast him a withering look. She was beginning to despise David McCall. When the whole party had eaten all they possibly could, somebody started to play a ukulele, and the young people danced on the smooth grass that had been worn down by so many picnics. Nobody apparently wanted to go home, except Mrs. Gay. Finally Mrs. Reed, beginning to be anxious about her own two boys, seconded the motion for departure. “Let’s give the rowboats twenty minutes start,” suggested Cliff Hunter. “And the canoes ten. We’ll beat you all at that!” <div class="pb" id="Page_64">[64]</div> “If our engines don’t give out,” put in Stuart Robinson doubtfully. He never felt confident about his ancient motorboat. “Suits me fine!” cried Jane, realizing that the arrangement gave her twenty extra minutes to dance. The rowboats pushed off, and ten minutes later Mary Louise and her mother and David stepped into their canoe. It was a light craft, built for speed, and both she and David were excellent paddlers. In no time at all they were leading the procession. It was David’s sharp eyes which first detected signs of a disaster. “There’s a fire at Shady Nook!” he cried breathlessly. “Oh!” gasped Mrs. Gay in horror, and turning about swiftly, Mary Louise thought that her mother was going to faint. But she didn’t; she pulled herself together quickly and sat up very straight. “It’s true,” agreed Mary Louise, her voice trembling with fear. Suppose it were their own cottage—and—and—Freckles! The canoe rounded the bend in the river and came within full view of the little resort. The Reeds’ house was visible now—yes—and the Gays’! Thank heaven it was unharmed! <div class="pb" id="Page_65">[65]</div> “It’s either the Partridges’ or Flicks’,” announced David. “And my bet is that it’s Flicks’. I was expecting it.” “You were expecting it, David?” repeated Mrs. Gay in consternation. “What do you mean by that?” “Because Cliff Hunter holds a big mortgage on Flicks’ Inn,” replied the young man. “It means ready cash for him.” “Don’t be absurd!” commanded Mary Louise. “How could Cliff have anything to do with it when he was with us all evening?” “Haven’t you ever heard of a bribe, Mary Lou?” he asked. The girl did not answer. The increasing noise of the engines behind them told them that the motorboats had caught up with them. Everybody knew about the disaster now; Mrs. Flick was crying, and Mr. Flick was yelling and waving his arms wildly, calling upon everybody to help him. He was out of his boat first—he happened to be riding in the Robinsons’ 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. <div class="pb" id="Page_66">[66]</div> “Freckles!” cried Mrs. Gay, in a tone of both relief and fear: relief that her child was safe, fear that he had had something to do with the fire. “What are you doing?” “Trying to save the trees,” explained the boy. “The inn was gone when we got here, but us guys kept the fire from spreading.” He looked up proudly, as if he expected a medal for his bravery. “I don’t believe a word of it!” thundered Mr. Flick. “I believe you boys set the place on fire. And now you’re trying to lie out of it!” “I wouldn’t put it past ’em,” muttered Mr. Frazier, at his side. The Fraziers had landed at Shady Nook instead of crossing to the hotel’s 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. Course, we investigated. The inn was gone. But the ashes were still smoldering, and there was smoke coming out from the bushes. So we ran over to Gays’ and to our house and got buckets and carried water from the river. It’s about out now.” <div class="pb" id="Page_67">[67]</div> “You’re sure that’s the truth?” demanded Mr. Reed. “On my honor, Dad!” replied the boy solemnly. “Did you see anybody in the woods or around Shady Nook?” inquired Mrs. Flick. “Yeah. A big guy who looked like a tramp from the woods—it was too dark to see his face—and a funny-looking woman in a gray dress with a big pitcher under her arm.” “Together?” asked Mary Louise. “No. The big guy was in the woods. And the woman was running along the road that leads to Four Corners.” “Nothing but a made-up yarn!” denounced Mr. Flick. But the fire was really out; there was nothing anybody could do. Frazier suggested that the Flicks and their guests come over to his hotel, and the latter accepted. But the Flicks, realizing that this was not a real invitation, that the hotelkeeper would present them with a bill later on, chose to stay with the Partridges. So at last the group dispersed for the night. Mary Louise, however, was so exasperated with David McCall that she never even answered his pleasant “Good-night!” <div class="pb" id="Page_68">[68]</div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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