The Mystery of the Secret Band

They talked of other things for a while, of school and dances and basketball. Finally they reached Stoddard House, a little after ten o’clock.

“Oh, I do hope we’re in time!” exclaimed Mary Louise.

They found the hotel almost deserted. Mrs. Hilliard was sitting in a chair, knitting. Nobody else was around.

“Did you have a good time, dear?” she asked, after Max had been introduced to her.

“An exciting time,” replied the young man. “Mary Lou was hit on the head with a stone and knocked out. But detectives have to expect that sort of thing, I suppose.”

“Sh!” warned the girl. “Nobody except Mrs. Hilliard is supposed to know I’m acting as detective.”

“I didn’t k-n-o-w that!” apologized Max, in the tone of Joe Penner.

Mrs. Hilliard looked troubled. “Tell me what happened,” she urged.

Briefly Mary Louise related the story, and the good woman was relieved to hear that the blow was not serious. She was thankful, too, that the job at Stoddard House had not been responsible for it.

“Are the Weinbergers still here?” was Mary Louise’s next question.

“Mrs. Weinberger is. But her daughter went out early this afternoon, and I don’t think she came back. Her mother was in a great stew at supper time. You would think from the way she carries on that her daughter was a girl in her teens instead of a woman of twenty-eight or so.”

A look of disappointment crossed Mary Louise’s face.

“I must see Miss Stoddard,” she announced. “Max, you wait here with Mrs. Hilliard till I come back, because I may need you. I shan’t be gone long.”

She ran off and took the elevator to the third floor and knocked at Miss Stoddard’s door.

“Who is it?” was the query.

“Mary Louise Gay. May I come in, Miss Stoddard?”

The woman turned the key in the lock and opened the door. She was dressed in a kimono and slippers.

“You’re too late, Miss Gay,” she said. “Miss Weinberger has already eloped. I’m sure of it. I saw her get into a taxi this afternoon, and one of the maids came out and brought her her suitcase. She probably had hidden it somewhere from her mother. She’s probably married by now – and run off with all the money and jewelry from Stoddard House!”

“Oh!” gasped Mary Louise in dismay. “Why wasn’t I here! Did you see the man, Miss Stoddard?”

“No – unless he was the taxi driver. But I didn’t even get a good look at him.”

“Probably she was to join him somewhere. He wouldn’t risk coming near the house in broad daylight if he was the burglar who entered my room.”

“No, that’s true.”

“If Hortense Weinberger really is married,” said Mary Louise, “don’t you suppose her mother will hear about it tomorrow? And if I keep in touch with her mother, I ought to see the man when he comes back from the honeymoon.”

“Mrs. Weinberger was planning to leave Stoddard House tomorrow,” returned Miss Stoddard.

“Yes, I know. But this may alter her plans. And besides, she will surely give her forwarding address to Mrs. Hilliard. She has no reason to hide; she doesn’t have any idea that her daughter or her husband is suspected of stealing.”

“I hope you’re right, Miss Gay… Now, tell me what happened to your head.”

“I was riding in an open car, and a stone fell out of a tree and hit me,” she answered simply.

The older woman pulled down the corners of her mouth and looked doubtful.

“Of course, she’s thinking I’m just a wild young girl,” Mary Louise concluded. But it really didn’t matter in the least to her what Miss Stoddard chose to believe about her. “Well, I must get to bed, Miss Stoddard,” she said aloud. “So good-night.”

“Good-night,” returned the other, carefully locking the door after Mary Louise went out.

A moment later the girl joined Mrs. Hilliard and Max on the first floor.

“Miss Stoddard thinks Miss Weinberger eloped this afternoon,” she announced.

Mrs. Hilliard laughed incredulously.

“Old maids love to imagine romances,” she said. “Well, we’ll see… Now, don’t you think you had better go to bed?” she asked Mary Louise in a motherly way.

“Yes, I do,” agreed the girl, “Max, if you’re still here, I’d be glad to have you come to lunch with me tomorrow. We’re allowed to have men to meals, aren’t we, Mrs. Hilliard?”

“Certainly, dear.”

“Nix on that!” protested the young man immediately. “Can you imagine me – one lone fellow – in that dining room full of dames? Looking me over and snickering at the way I wear my hair or tie my shoes? Nothing doing! I’ll call for you at one, Mary Lou, and we’ll go out somewhere to lunch.”

“O.K.,” agreed the girl, smiling. “See you then!”

CHAPTER IX

Lunch at the Bellevue

Mary Louise slept late the following morning. The dining-room doors had been closed for an hour when Mrs. Hilliard finally came into her room.

“What time is it, Mrs. Hilliard?” she inquired, opening her eyes and staring at the bright sunlight pouring through the windows.

“It’s almost eleven o’clock. I thought you had better sleep this morning, Mary Louise, on account of your head. How do you feel?”

“Oh, I’m all right, Mrs. Hilliard, thank you. But this is no time for anybody with a job to get up! I’ll get fired.”

The woman laughed.

“My dear, you are doing all that anybody could do, I believe. I am afraid the situation is hopeless. Mrs. Weinberger moved out this morning.”

“Did she hear from her daughter?”

“Yes, she had a telegram. She is married and has gone to New York for a honeymoon over Christmas.”

“How did her mother take it?”

“Very badly. She seemed all cut up about it. The man has a job as a taxi driver, and though Mrs. Weinberger has never met him, she is sure he is a rough, uneducated fellow.”