<h2 id="c23">CHAPTER XXIII. <br/><span class="small">PARTNER-DETECTIVES</span></h2>
<p>It was five-thirty when the partner-detectives left
the quiet park, where long shadows were lying
on the grass and where birds were calling softly
from one rustling tree to another.</p>
<p>“It seems like a different world, doesn’t it?” Bobs
said, as she smiled in her friendliest way at the lad
at the wheel. She had felt a real tenderness for her
companion since he had told her about Desmond, and
she was glad that an old friend of hers had been a
comfort to him.</p>
<p>“It does, indeed,” he declared with a last glance
back at the park. “I like trees better than I do many
people. We have some wonderful old elms around
our summer home in the Orange Hills. When my
mother returns I shall ask her to invite you four
girls to one of her week-ends, or to one that she
will plan just for me, after Dick comes.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_188">[188]</div>
<p>Then, as they were again on the thronged East
Side, the lad said:</p>
<p>“Seventy-sixth Street, beyond Second, you said,
didn’t you?”</p>
<p>“Yes. There is the Boys’ Club House just ahead,”
Roberta exclaimed. Then as they drew up at the
curb, she added: “Good! The door is open and so
Mr. Hardinian probably is here.”</p>
<p>The young man whom they sought was still there,
and as they entered the low wooden temporary structure
which covered a vacant lot between two rickety
old tenements, they saw him smiling down at a group
of excited newsies, who were evidently relating to
him some occurrence of their day.</p>
<p>He at once recognized Roberta and made his way
toward her, while the boys to whom he had spoken
a few words of dismissal departed through a side
door, leaving the big room empty.</p>
<p>Bobs held out her hand as she said: “Mr. Hardinian,
this is my friend, Mr. Caldwaller-Cory, and
we have come, I do believe, on a wild goose chase.”</p>
<p>Ralph at once liked the young man with the lithe,
wiry build and the dark face that was so wonderfully
expressive.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_189">[189]</div>
<p>He looked to be about twenty-four years of age,
although he might have been even a year or two
older. An amused smile accompanied his question:
“Miss Vandergrift, am I the wild goose?”</p>
<p>The girl laughed. “That wasn’t a very graceful
way of stating our errand,” she said, “so I will begin
again. The truth of the matter is that Mr. Cory
and I are amateur detectives.”</p>
<p>Again Mr. Hardinian smiled, and, with a swinging
gesture that seemed to include the entire place,
he said: “Search where you will, but I doubt if
you will detect here a hidden wild goose.” Then,
more seriously, he added: “Come, let us be seated in
the library corner, for I am sure that your visit has
some real purpose.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_190">[190]</div>
<p>Mr. Hardinian listened to the story of the Pensinger
mystery, which, as little was really known
about it, took but a brief moment to tell. At its
conclusion he said: “Did you think. Miss Vandergrift,
that I might know something about all this?
I truly do not. Although I was born in Hungary,
while I was still an infant my parents went to England,
where I was educated, and only last year the
need of my own people brought me here where so
many of them come, believing that they are to find
freedom and fortune. But how soon they are disillusioned,
for they find poverty, suffering and conditions
to which they are unused and with which
they know not how to cope. Many of the older
ones lose out and their children are left waifs all
alone in this great city. I found when I reached here
that they needed me most, the homeless boys who,
many of them, slept huddled over some grating
through which heat came, or in hallways crowded
together for warmth, until they were told to move
on. And so the first thing that I did was to rent this
vacant lot and build a temporary wooden structure.
Now with these walls lined with bunks, as you see,
I can make many of the boys fairly comfortable at
night.”</p>
<p>“I say, Mr. Hardinian,” Ralph exclaimed, “this
is a splendid work that you are doing! I’m coming
over some night soon, if I may. I want to see the
place in full swing.”</p>
<p>“Come whenever you wish,” was the reply. And
then, as Roberta had risen, the young men did also.</p>
<p>The girl smiled as she said: “Honestly, Mr. Hardinian,
I knew in my bones that you would not be
able to help us solve the mystery, but you were the
only Hungarian with whom I had even the slightest
speaking acquaintance, and so we thought that we
would tell you the story and, if you ever hear anything
that might be a clue, let us know, won’t you?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_191">[191]</div>
<p>“Indeed I will, and gladly. Good-bye! Come
over Sunday afternoon at four, if you have no other
plans. We have a little service then and the boys
conduct it entirely.”</p>
<p>When they were again in the small car, Ralph
was enthusiastic. “I like that chap!” he exclaimed.
“I wish detectives could plan to have things turn out
the way an author can. If I had the say of it, I’d
make Mr. Hardinian into a descendant of Marilyn
Pensinger and then he could inherit all of that fortune
and use it for his homeless waifs.”</p>
<p>It was after six when the small car stopped in
front of the Pensinger mansion, and Ralph declared
that since he had a date with his dad, he could not
stop to meet the other Vandergrift girls, as he
greatly desired.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_192">[192]</div>
<p>That night, when Ralph returned from an evening
affair which he had attended with his father, he did
not retire at once. Instead, he seated himself at his
desk and for half an hour his pen scratched rapidly
over a large sheet of white paper. He was writing
a letter to Dick De Laney, his close-as-a-brother
friend, telling him that at last the only girl in the
world had appeared in his life.</p>
<p>“I always told you, old pal, that I’d know the girl
who was meant for me the minute that I met her.
But I do believe that she is going to be hard to win.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_193">[193]</div>
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