The Mystery of the Fires Read online

  CHAPTER VII _The Crazy Woman_

  Jane went off early after lunch in Cliff Hunter's canoe, and Mary Louisesat on the porch waiting for David McCall. She was still angry at him forthe way he had accused Cliff to her the night before, but a promise is apromise, and she meant to see him. If she had had a chance to go swimmingthat morning, she might have tried to break the date.

  He came along about half-past two, smiling shyly, as if he were not quitesure how he stood with Mary Louise.

  "You're not still mad at me, Mary Lou, are you?" he asked, lookingstraight into her eyes.

  "Yes, I am," replied the girl. "I'm disappointed that a boy with yourbrains can't reason more intelligently. The finest detective in the worldwouldn't be sure that one certain person was guilty of a crime until hehad made some investigations."

  "But it's so obvious, Mary Lou! Hunter holds a big mortgage on one placeand big fire insurance on another. He can't sell either of them, and heneeds the money. So he sets them both on fire and collects that way! Whatcould be simpler?"

  "There are lots of other people, besides Cliff, who profited from thosetwo fires. In fact," concluded Mary Louise, "the thing that worries me isthat 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 ofnames!" She opened her notebook and read him the list:

  "'Horace Ditmar, Lemuel Adams, Eberhardt'--the storekeeper--'Frazier, atramp the boys saw in the woods, and a queer-looking woman.' Not tomention the boys, because I really don't think they did it."

  David shook his head. "All possible, of course, but not any of themprobable. 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 likethat. But tell me why you suspect men like Adams--I suppose he's thefarmer, isn't he?--and Frazier and Eberhardt. Sounds silly to me."

  "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," remarkedDavid.

  "I'm not so sure. Then, the storekeeper told me that Lemuel Adams feltspiteful towards the Hunters because they made so much money out of hisland. 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 didit--to clear Freckles, for one reason, and to prevent our own bungalowfrom burning down, for another."

  "You needn't worry about your bungalow," said David stubbornly. "CliffHunter 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 overto Adams' farm. You can come along with me if you want to," she addedgrudgingly.

  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. "Lettingyou in on all the thrills of solving a real mystery.... Well, are youcoming or not?"

  "Sure I'm coming," he muttered disconsolately. But he gazed longingly atthe river and wished it were a canoe, and not a car, in which they wereto spend the afternoon.

  Remembering the farmhouse where Hattie Adams had said she lived, MaryLouise turned off the drive beyond Shady Nook into a dirt road whichwound around to the top of a hill. She was going slowly--in secondgear--when a strange-looking creature in a gray dress darted out from thebushes into the direct path of the car. With a gasp of horror, MaryLouise ground down her brakes, missing the woman by only a couple ofinches.

  "What did you do that for?" shouted David.

  The woman looked up and smiled innocently at the two young people in thecar. Her eyes were vacant and expressionless; her gray hair hung abouther face in tangled curls, tied with a faded blue ribbon, in a childishfashion. And under her arm she lugged an immense china pitcher--the kindthat is used in the country for carrying water to the bedrooms. She wasindeed a strange-looking person--probably the same woman the boys hadnoticed 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 thedanger she had just escaped.

  "I'm looking for well water," she said. "Well water to put out thedreadful fires."

  "Fires?" repeated Mary Louise sharply.

  "Yes, fires. The Lord said in His holy Book that He would burn down thecities of pleasure because of the sins of the people. But I am sorry forthe little children. I must help put out the fires with pure water from awell. 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 towant to put fires out, perhaps she lighted them first for that verypurpose.

  "I'm sorry, but we don't know where there is a well," she replied. "Buttell 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 firetonight, 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 abouthalf clad, and where they dance and feast until past midnight. I can'ttell you upon which the Lord's anger will descend, but I know it willcome. I know it. I must get water--pure water. I can't have innocentchildren burned to death."

  "But who are you?" repeated Mary Louise.

  "I am Rebecca. And I am going to meet my bridegroom at the well. MyIsaac!" 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 speechlesswonder, 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."

  "She's like that bride in the Dickens book," said Mary Louise. "The womanwho was deserted on her wedding day and wore her wedding dress all therest of her life, expecting her bridegroom to come back. Remember? Thatalways gave me the creeps."

  "But this woman is happier. She's sure she's going to meet her Isaac at awell." He laughed. "No, I think we're more to be pitied than she is. Forif she goes around setting fire to people's places----"

  "She ought to be locked up! Yet that seems a shame, if she does happen tobe harmless." Mary Louise stepped on the starter. "Well, let's go on upto the Adams'. Maybe they can tell us who she is."

  They continued on up the hill to the farm and left the car at theentrance to the front yard, just outside the picket fence. The Adamsplace was a neat-looking frame house, painted white, and pleasant to lookat. A big porch surrounded it on all sides, and here they saw HattieAdams, seated in a rocking chair, sewing. She waved to Mary Louise.

  "Hello, folks!" she called genially. "Come on up! Any news?"

  "No, we haven't," replied Mary Louise as she sat down. "But I did want toask you what you knew about the fire, Hattie, because Mr. Flick is sortof blaming my brother and the other small boys, and I know they didn'tstart it. So will you tell us when you left Flicks'--and all you knowabout it?"

  Hattie nodded solemnly.

  "Well, let me see," she began. "We had supper at half-past five lastnight, didn't we? And everybody was through eatin' about quarter toseven. Even Mis' Flick. The other two hired girls helped me wash some ofthe dishes, and then Mr. Flick drove 'em over to the Junction. He comeback for Mis' Flick about half-past seven, I reckon. They put the caraway 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. r />
  "Nary a soul. Everybody went to the picnic, as far as I know. I expectedto go home, get fixed up, and get my brother Tom to row me over. But hewasn'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 neverknew a thing about the fire till I went over this mornin' as usual towork at Flicks'."

  "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. Iusually get it and set it on the table and then run down to Flicks' quickas I can. But Mis' Flick never cares if I don't get there early, becausewe 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 shedidn't know how. And about this brother Tom, too. If he had been awayfrom the farm last night, maybe he was responsible for setting the inn onfire.

  Instead, however, she inquired about the strange creature who wanderedabout the countryside with her big pitcher under her arm.

  "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 steppedright in front of our car."

  The other girl laughed.

  "Rather!" she said. "Rebecca's my sister. She's never been right. Butshe's perfectly harmless, so we let her wander about as she wants. Shewouldn'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 alwayswants 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 anythingelse happens," she said.

  "I wouldn't worry about it if I was you," returned Hattie. "They can't doanything to your brother without proof.... It's lots worse for me. I'velost my job. And so has my brother Tom. He used to pick up a lot of workat odd times for Mr. Flick."

  Mary Louise stared in surprise; she had never thought of this angle ofit. Here were two people who actually lost out by the fire! Surely thisfact proclaimed the innocence of the entire Adams family, with thepossible exception of Rebecca.

  "Did you need the work, Hattie?" she asked, gazing around at the big farmland that stretched out on all sides of the house.

  "Oh, we won't starve without it! But it meant spendin' money for Tom andme. And extra clothes. Besides, I liked it. It's awful dull livin' on afarm with only the chores to do. I'd go to the city and get a job ifthere was any. But I know there ain't."

  "Maybe Mr. Frazier will give you a job at the Royal Hotel," suggestedMary Louise. "Now that he has more business. Because I understand thatmost 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 beeasy to get there."

  "Well, good luck to you!" was Mary Louise's parting hope. "We'll begetting on. I'd like a swim this afternoon."

  David McCall's eyes brightened. They were going to have some fun, afterall!

  "We'll get into our suits and go out in the canoe," said Mary Louise asshe directed the car towards Shady Nook. "Maybe we can find Jane andCliff and all go in together."

  The young man sighed: always this Clifford Hunter had to share his goodtimes!

  But it was better than nothing, and later on, when the couple found notonly Jane and Cliff, but the Robinson boys and the Reed twins, he had toadmit that his afternoon had turned out pleasantly after all.