<h2 id="c16"><span class="small">CHAPTER XVI</span> <br/><i>Weary Waiting</i></h2>
<p>Like her daughter, Mrs. Gay did not go to
sleep until dawn of the following morning. Her
mental torture was even keener than Mary
Louise’s, for her imagination suggested all sorts
of horrible fates, worse than the one the girl was
actually enduring. Physical violence, association
with hardened criminals, hunger, thirst—and—death.
That was the most terrifying thought of
all—the fear that Mary Louise might already be
dead!</p>
<p>Like her daughter’s, too, Mrs. Gay’s suffering
was all the more intense because she had to bear
it alone through the long, silent night. Freckles
and Jane, tired out from their vigorous search,
had fallen instantly asleep. There was nobody
to sympathize with the poor frenzied mother.
She swallowed dose after dose of aspirin, until
finally, with the first gray streaks of dawn, she
at last fell asleep.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_206">[206]</div>
<p>Freckles was the first person awake in the
household the next morning, and he immediately
started the breakfast. Jane, arriving on the scene
fifteen minutes later, was surprised and delighted
at the boy’s progress.</p>
<p>“We better not waken Mother,” he said. “I
don’t suppose she got much sleep last night.”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid not.” Tears came to Jane’s eyes as
they rested on the forlorn little dog sitting so
disconsolately in the corner of the kitchen.
“Freckles, what do you think could have happened
to Mary Lou?” she asked.</p>
<p>“I think Tom Adams did something to her.
Kidnaped her, probably. But I had one idea this
morning, Jane, while I was making the coffee.
Maybe he hid her in his own house somewhere!
We never thought to search that.”</p>
<p>“Bright boy!” exclaimed Jane, so loudly as to
awaken Mrs. Gay, who heard her from her bedroom.
For one ecstatic moment the woman
hoped that her daughter had been found. But
Freckles’ next remark dispelled any such idea.</p>
<p>“It’s worth looking into,” he continued. “But
I don’t really think she’s there, or Hattie would
come and tell us. I can’t believe Hattie is an
enemy—or on Tom’s side. She’s too fond of
Mary Lou.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_207">[207]</div>
<p>Mrs. Gay, attired in a kimono and looking
white and exhausted, peered in at the kitchen
door.</p>
<p>“That coffee smells so good,” she said, “that
I just can’t wait for a cup of it.”</p>
<p>Freckles grinned in delight and poured out
the steaming liquid. It seemed to revive his
mother, and she drank it eagerly. But she could
not eat any breakfast.</p>
<p>“We’re going up to Adams’ first,” announced
the boy. “I’ll get Stu Robinson to drive us in his
car—and we’ll take Silky along. If Mary Lou
should be hidden there, Silky’d find her....
And, Mother—if the police come, be sure to
have them talk to Horace Ditmar and get a look
at that threat he found shoved under his door
yesterday!”</p>
<p>“I will, dear,” returned Mrs. Gay, smiling to
herself at the idea of taking orders from her
small son. But the boy was proving himself both
practical and businesslike in the management of
the whole affair.</p>
<p>“I wonder whether Adelaide Ditmar will
open her dining room today as she planned,” remarked
Jane.</p>
<p>A lump came into Mrs. Gay’s throat, but she
managed to reply calmly:</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_208">[208]</div>
<p>“I think so. She has all her food bought, and
besides, the people are expecting it. Mrs. Reed
told me last night that Sue and Mabel are both
going to help her—if—if—Mary Lou doesn’t
come back in time. You had better tell Hattie
Adams to come down to the Ditmars’ as soon as
she can, though I don’t believe Adelaide is planning
to serve lunch.”</p>
<p>Jane nodded, and finished her breakfast. After
she and Freckles and the little dog had gone, the
people from the other bungalows began to arrive
at the Gays’, to start upon a new search for the
missing girl. Horace Ditmar sent them off in
various directions while he and several of the
older women stayed behind to help and to advise
Mrs. Gay.</p>
<p>At nine-thirty a small red car drove into
Shady Nook and stopped at the Gays’ bungalow.
Three plainclothes men got out, displaying their
badges for identification.</p>
<p>“We want the whole story,” they said. “So far
we know nothing—except that Mary Louise
Gay, of Riverside and Shady Nook, is missing.”</p>
<p>“We don’t know much more ourselves,” sighed
Mrs. Gay. Then she proceeded to tell the story
of the girl’s disappearance the preceding afternoon.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_209">[209]</div>
<p>“As far as we know, the last person who saw
her alive is Rebecca Adams, a feeble-minded
woman who lives over at a farm where we know
that Mary Louise started to go. Nobody saw her
after that.”</p>
<p>“Have you any suspicions at all?” inquired
the detective.</p>
<p>Horace Ditmar answered that question by telling
about the three fires at Shady Nook and by
showing the paper which had warned him of the
possibility of a fourth.</p>
<p>“Mary Louise suspected Tom Adams—the
brother of this feeble-minded woman—though
we don’t know yet upon what clues she based her
suspicions,” he concluded. “But it looks as if
Adams was guilty, for he ran away. He didn’t
take Mary Louise with him—we know that, because
his sister drove him to the Junction—but
we’re afraid he did something to her first.”</p>
<p>“So our first duty is to find this Tom Adams,”
announced the detective, rising. “Can you take
us over to the farm now, Ditmar? Or rather, just
one of us, for the other two better stay here and
investigate that threat. And we want a picture of
Miss Mary Louise Gay. We’ll get one of Adams
and print them both in every newspaper in the
country.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_210">[210]</div>
<p>“But that’s not the only clue we’ll work on,”
put in another of the men. “That may be entirely
wrong, and Miss Gay may just have met with an
accident, or even lost her memory. There are
many cases of that, you know.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Gay nodded. That was just the trouble:
so many dreadful things might have happened
to Mary Louise!</p>
<p>However, she resolved to keep up her spirits
until she actually heard bad news. She could endure
the tension in the daytime, she thought, by
keeping herself active; perhaps, before night,
her husband would come.</p>
<p>So she hunted out some pictures of Mary
Louise for the detectives and answered their
questions for an hour. Just as the two men left to
go to Ditmars, to investigate the threat and
guard Adelaide, the roar of an airplane in the
sky drew Mrs. Gay’s attention. It was an auto-giro,
fluttering over a near-by field where there
did not happen to be any trees.</p>
<p>Breathlessly she waited while it made its landing.
But the motor did not stop, and only one
man got out of the cockpit. Then, as the auto-giro
speeded away, the man on the field began to
run towards Shady Nook. In another moment
she identified him as her husband—Detective
Gay, of the police force!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_211">[211]</div>
<p>He took the porch steps two at a time and, out
of breath as he was, lifted his trembling wife
into his arms. For the first time since the disaster
Mrs. Gay broke down and sobbed. But what
a relief it was to give way to her feelings at last!
Her husband shared her anguish and understood,
comforting her as best he could with
words of assurance.</p>
<p>“We’ll find her, dear, I’m sure we will!” he
said. “Mary Lou isn’t a baby: she’ll show lots of
pluck and courage. I’m counting on that daughter
of ours every time!”</p>
<p>“Have you any plans at all, dear?” she inquired.</p>
<p>“Yes. Lots. I’m going to do a lot of telegraphing
as soon as I get the whole story. I was never
so thankful before that I’d chosen the detective
profession.”</p>
<p>“Have you had anything to eat?”</p>
<p>Mr. Gay smiled. “Now that you mention it, I
don’t believe I have. You might fix me some coffee
while you tell me just what happened.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_212">[212]</div>
<p>Freckles and Jane returned while Mr. Gay
was eating his meal, but they had nothing to report.
Hattie was sure that Tom could not be
guilty; she believed that he was running away
from his gambling debts. Nevertheless, she had
consented immediately to a thorough search of
the house and barn for the missing girl. Yet even
Silky’s sharp nose could not find her.</p>
<p>The boy was delighted to find his father at
home; he felt immediately that a great weight
had been lifted from his shoulders. For, like
Mary Louise, he believed that his father could
almost accomplish the impossible.</p>
<p>“We’re going over to the other shore after
lunch—with Silky,” he said, “and hunt some
more.”</p>
<p>“That’s right, Son,” approved Mr. Gay.
“We’ll never give up till we find Mary Lou!”</p>
<p>None of the other searchers returned with any
news all that afternoon. The day was hot and
sultry, and to Mrs. Gay, interminable. Everything
was so strangely quiet at the little resort;
no radios played, no young people shouted to
each other or burst into singing. Even the birds
seemed hushed, as if they too sensed the tragedy
of the usually happy little colony.</p>
<p>Late in the afternoon the four girls who were
working at the Ditmars’ went into the river to
cool off with a swim, and Mr. Gay decided to
join them. But it was more like a bath than a
swim, and nobody seemed to enjoy it.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_213">[213]</div>
<p>Mr. Gay dressed and joined his wife on the
porch, waiting for the detectives to return. Suddenly
a noisy car came towards them—a bright
green roadster which was somehow familiar yet
did not belong at Shady Nook. It was dusty and
dirty; its two occupants wore goggles, as if they
had been participating in a race, and until they
spoke neither of the Gays recognized them.
Then they identified them instantly as Max
Miller and Norman Wilder, from Riverside.</p>
<p>“Any news yet?” demanded Max eagerly as
he jumped out of the car.</p>
<p>“No, not a bit,” replied Mr. Gay. “How did
you boys find out about it? Is it in the papers?”</p>
<p>“It’s in the afternoon edition,” replied Norman,
handing a newspaper to the other. “But of
course we started before that. There was a wire
to the Riverside police last night, that we got
wind of. So we started early this morning.”</p>
<p>“I think it’s fine of you both to come,” said
Mrs. Gay, though she could not at the moment
see what possible help they might afford.</p>
<p>“We’re going to have a swim, clean up our
car, and eat,” announced Max; “then we’re going
to drive all around here within a radius of a
hundred miles, tooting our horn and going
slowly.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_214">[214]</div>
<p>“I didn’t know you boys knew how to drive
slowly,” remarked Mr. Gay teasingly.</p>
<p>“Well, we really won’t need to toot our horn,”
returned Norman in the same light manner, “because
the color of our car is loud enough to
shriek for us!”</p>
<p>Mabel and Sue Reed, passing by the bungalow
on their way back to the Ditmars’, stopped
in and met the boys. Mrs. Gay asked them to put
two extra places at the dinner table for them.</p>
<p>Gradually the searchers returned—without
any success—and everybody went to Ditmars to
dinner. It was a lovely meal. Adelaide Ditmar
proved that she knew how to prepare food and
serve it attractively, and, in spite of their anxiety,
everybody enjoyed it. Everybody except
Mrs. Gay, who could only pick at her food.</p>
<p>True to their resolve, Max and Norman drove
off in their car immediately after supper, with
Freckles and Jane along with them. The rest of
the inhabitants of Shady Nook settled down to
a quiet evening of waiting. Waiting and hoping
for news.</p>
<p>About eight o’clock Mr. and Mrs. Frazier
came over from the hotel to offer their sympathy
to the Gays.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_215">[215]</div>
<p>“I don’t want to alarm you, Gay,” said
Frazier, “but I think you haven’t given enough
thought to the river. Mary Louise was playing
tennis on our court early in the afternoon, and
the most natural thing in the world would be for
her to take a swim afterwards. You know yourself
that even the best of swimmers have
cramps.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Gay clutched her husband’s arm tightly
in an effort to control herself. What a horrible
suggestion!</p>
<p>“Terrible as it is, drowning is better than lots
of things that might happen,” remarked Mrs.
Frazier.</p>
<p>Mrs. Gay glared at the woman with hatred in
her eyes. How could she sit there and talk like
that? She rose abruptly.</p>
<p>“You’ll have to excuse us now, Mrs. Frazier,”
she said unsteadily. “My husband and I have
things to do.”</p>
<p>The hotelkeeper and his wife got up from
their chairs just as the detectives’ car stopped at
the bungalow. Everybody waited tensely.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_216">[216]</div>
<p>“No news of your daughter, Mrs. Gay,” announced
one of the detectives, immediately. “But
we are on Adams’ trail. He’s been spotted, speeding
across the country in a stolen car. This
afternoon they found the car, abandoned near a
woods. Undoubtedly he’s guilty.”</p>
<p>Frazier’s white face became even more pasty-looking.
Nobody noticed it, except Mr. Gay,
who made it his business to watch people’s reactions.</p>
<p>“If I may say something,” put in the hotelkeeper,
looking straight at the detective, “I think
you’re on the wrong track. Adams is guilty of a
small theft—he stole two hundred dollars from
me, and he left some gambling debts. That’s why
he’s running away. But I believe your real
criminal is right here at Shady Nook!”</p>
<p>“Who?” demanded all the detectives at once.</p>
<p>“Ditmar. Horace Ditmar. These fires have
proved to be a good thing for him. Ditmars took
over all that boarding-house trade after Flicks’
Inn burned down. Mary Louise was on the inside,
so they were probably afraid she’d find out
too much—and—disposed of her.”</p>
<p>“I don’t believe a word of it!” cried Mrs. Gay
angrily. “I’d trust both Adelaide and Horace
anywhere. And how about that threat they got?
You saw that?” she asked the detectives.</p>
<p>“That was just a clever trick,” explained
Frazier lightly, “to throw off suspicion. You
notice it has not been carried out!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_217">[217]</div>
<p>Almost in hysterics, Mrs. Gay felt that she
could not bear those dreadful Fraziers another
minute. Desperately she clung to her husband’s
arm for support.</p>
<p>“Will you men come inside?” suggested Mr.
Gay, realizing how his wife was suffering.
“Good-night, Mrs. Frazier. Good-night, Frazier.”</p>
<p>And so another long night passed without any
news of Mary Louise. But it was not so terrible
for Mrs. Gay as the first one, because her husband
was with her. And Max Miller and Norman
Wilder comforted her with the assurance
that they were going to find Mary Louise the
following day.</p>
<p>Somehow, by intuition, perhaps, Mrs. Gay believed
them!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_218">[218]</div>
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