Back Aa

Mystery of the Fires

Close

<h2 id="c7">CHAPTER VII The Crazy Woman</h2> Jane went off early after lunch in Cliff Hunter’s canoe, and Mary 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, but 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 Mary Louise. “You’re not still mad at me, Mary Lou, 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 a crime until he had made some investigations.” <div class="pb" id="Page_92">[92]</div> “But it’s so obvious, Mary Lou! 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 Mary 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!” snapped the girl. “Then just listen to this bunch of names!” She opened her notebook and read him the list: “‘Horace Ditmar, Lemuel Adams, Eberhardt’—the storekeeper—‘Frazier, 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 Ditmar, and I admit he is a queer cuss. 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 Frazier and Eberhardt. Sounds silly to me.” <div class="pb" id="Page_93">[93]</div> “Frazier and Eberhardt both gained something by the fires: more business. And Dad always tells me to hunt for motives.” “They didn’t get enough business to go to all that trouble,” remarked David. “I’m not so sure. Then, the storekeeper told me that Lemuel Adams felt spiteful towards 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 scornful 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. <div class="pb" id="Page_94">[94]</div> The young man looked disappointed. “You are mean, Mary Lou,” 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 disconsolately. But he gazed longingly 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 Shady Nook into a dirt road which wound around to the top of a hill. She was going slowly—in second gear—when a strange-looking creature in a gray 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. <div class="pb" id="Page_95">[95]</div> The woman looked up and smiled innocently at the two young people in the car. Her eyes were vacant and expressionless; her gray hair hung about her face in tangled 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 horror-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. <div class="pb" id="Page_96">[96]</div> “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 am going to meet my bridegroom at the well. My Isaac!” Her eyes gleamed with happiness as she trotted off down the hill, carrying that ridiculous pitcher 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.” <div class="pb" id="Page_97">[97]</div> “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 Isaac at a well.” He laughed. “No, I think we’re more to be pitied than she is. For if 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, sewing. She waved to Mary Louise. “Hello, folks!” she called genially. “Come on up! Any news?” <div class="pb" id="Page_98">[98]</div> “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 Flicks’—and all you know about it?” Hattie nodded solemnly. “Well, let me see,” she began. “We had supper at half-past five last night, didn’t we? And everybody was through eatin’ about quarter to seven. Even Mis’ Flick. The other two hired girls helped me wash some of the dishes, and then Mr. Flick drove ’em over to the Junction. He come back for Mis’ Flick about half-past seven, I reckon. They put the car away and went to the picnic in a boat. I was just finishin’ washin’ 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. But he wasn’t anywhere around when I got back, and I didn’t feel like gettin’ the boat and goin’ all by myself, so I just stayed home with Dad. I never knew a thing about the fire till I went over this mornin’ as usual to work at Flicks’.” <div class="pb" id="Page_99">[99]</div> “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 milkin’ the cows when I got up, and I left before he come in for his breakfast. I usually get it and set it on the table and then run down to Flicks’ quick as I can. But Mis’ 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 mornin’ at Shady Nook—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 pitcher under her arm. <div class="pb" id="Page_100">[100]</div> “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 wouldn’t hurt a 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 ’em out. No, I wouldn’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 was you,” returned Hattie. “They can’t do anything to your brother without proof.... It’s lots worse for me. I’ve lost my job. And so has 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 Adams family, with the possible exception of Rebecca. <div class="pb" id="Page_101">[101]</div> “Did you need the work, Hattie?” she asked, gazing around at the big farm land that stretched out on all sides of the house. “Oh, we won’t starve without it! But it meant spendin’ money for Tom and me. And extra clothes. Besides, I liked it. It’s awful dull livin’ on a farm with only the chores to do. I’d go to the city and get a job if there was any. But I know there ain’t.” “Maybe Mr. Frazier will give you a job at the Royal Hotel,” suggested Mary Louise. “Now that he has more business. Because I understand that most of the Shady Nook 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 nuthin’. Tom goes every other day with butter and eggs and milk, so it would 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! <div class="pb" id="Page_102">[102]</div> “We’ll get into our suits and go out in the canoe,” said Mary Louise as she directed the car towards Shady Nook. “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 the Robinson boys and the Reed twins, he had to admit that his afternoon had turned out pleasantly after all. <div class="pb" id="Page_103">[103]</div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2