Back Aa

Camp-Fire Girls at Twin Lakes or The Quest of a Summer Vacation

Close

<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2><h3>A DOUBLE-ROOM MYSTERY.</h3> Miss Ladd passed the telegram around among the girls after writing the following explanation at the foot of the message: “Pierce Langford is the Fairberry attorney that represented scheming relatives of Mrs. Hutchins’ late husband, who attempted to force money out of her after the disappearance of the securities belonging to Glen Irving’s estate. Leave this matter to me and don’t talk about it until we reach Twin Lakes.” Nothing further was said about the incident during the rest of the journey, as requested by Miss Ladd. The girls knitted, rested, chatted, read, and wrote a few postcards or “train letters” to friends. But although there was not a word of conversation among the Camp Fire members relative to the passenger named in Mrs. Hutchins’ telegram, yet the subject was not absent from their minds much of the time. They were being followed! No other construction could be put upon the telegram. But for what purpose? What did the unscrupulous lawyer—that was the way Mrs. Hutchins had once referred to Pierce Langford—have in mind to do? Would he make trouble for them in any way that would place them in an embarrassing position? These girls had had experiences in the last year which were likely to make them apprehensive of almost anything under such circumstances as these. Warned of the presence on the train of a probable agent of the family that Mrs. Hutchins had under suspicion, the girls were constantly on the alert for some evidence of his interest in them and their movements. And they were rewarded to this extent: In the course of the journey, Langford paid the conductor the extra mileage for parlor car privileges, and as he transferred from the coach, not one of the Flamingoites failed to observe the fact that in personal appearance he answered strikingly the description of the man referred to in the telegram received by Miss Ladd. The squint-eyed man of mystery, in the coolest and most nonchalant manner, took a seat a short distance in front of the bevy of knitting Camp Fire Girls, unfolded a newspaper and appeared to bury himself in its contents, oblivious to all else about him. Half an hour later he arose and left the car, passing out toward the rear end of the train. Another half hour elapsed and he did not reappear. Then Katherine Crane and Hazel Edwards put away their knitting and announced that they were going back into the observation car and look over the magazines. They did not communicate to each other their real purpose in making this move, but neither had any doubt as to what was going on in the mind of the other. Marie Crismore looked at them with a little squint of intelligence and said as she arose from her chair: “I think I’ll go, too, for a change.” But this is what she interpolated to herself: “They’re going back there to spy, and I think I’ll go and spy, too.” They found Langford in the observation car, apparently asleep in a chair. Katherine, who entered first, declared afterwards that she was positive she saw him close his eyes like a flash and lapse into an appearance of drowsiness, but if she was not in error, his subsequent manner was a very clever simulation of midday slumber. Three or four times in the course of the next hour he shifted his position and half opened his eyes, but drooped back quickly into the most comfortable appearance of somnolent lassitude. The three girls were certain that all this was pure “make-believe,” but they did not communicate their conviction to each other by look or suggestion of any kind. They played their part very well, and it is quite possible that Langford, peeking through his eyewinkers, was considerably puzzled by their manner. He had no reason to believe that he was known to them by name or reputation, much less by personal appearance. It was in fact a game of spy on both sides during most of the journey, with little but mystifying results. The train reached Twin Lakes at about sundown, and even then the girls had discovered no positive evidence as to the “squint-eyed man’s” purpose in taking the trip they were taking. And Langford, as he left the train, could not confidently say to himself that he had detected any suggestion of interest on their part because of his presence on the train. Flamingo Camp Fire rode in an omnibus to the principal hotel in the town, the Crandell house, and were assigned to rooms on the second floor. They had had their supper on the train and proceeded at once to prepare for a night’s rest. Still no words were exchanged among them relative to the purpose of their visit or the mysterious, squint-eyed passenger concerning whom all of them felt an irrepressible curiosity and not a little apprehension. Miss Ladd occupied a room with Katherine Crane. After making a general survey of the floor and noting the location of the rooms of the other girls, they entered their own apartment and closed the door. Marie Crismore and Julietta Hyde occupied the room immediately south of theirs, but to none of them had the room immediately north been assigned. “I wonder if the next room north is occupied,” Katherine remarked as she took off her hat and laid it on a shelf in the closet. “Someone is entering now,” Miss Ladd whispered, lifting her hand with a warning for low-toned conversation. The exchange of a few indistinct words between two persons could be heard; then one of them left, and the other was heard moving about in the room. “That’s one of the hotel men who just brought a new guest up,” Katherine remarked. “And I’m going to find out who it is,” the Guardian declared in a low tone, turning toward the door. “I’ll go with you,” said Katherine, and together they went down to the office. They sought the register at once and began looking over the list of arrivals. Presently Miss Ladd pointed with her finger the following registration: “Pierce Langford, Fairberry, Room 36.” Miss Ladd and Katherine occupied Room 35. “Anything you wish, ladies?” asked the proprietor, who stood behind the desk. “Yes,” Miss Ladd answered. “We want another room.” “I’ll have to give you single rooms, if that one is not satisfactory,” was the reply. “All my double rooms are filled.” “Isn’t 36 a double room?” Katherine inquired. “Yes, but it’s occupied. I just sent a man up there.” “Excuse the question,” Miss Ladd said curiously; “but why did you put one person in a double room when it was the only double room you had and there were vacant single rooms in the house?” The hotel keeper smiled pleasantly, as if the question was the simplest in the world to answer. “Because he insisted on having it and paid me double rate in advance,” was the landlord’s startling reply. <hr class="major" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2