The Mystery of the Secret Band

“I’ll take this special luncheon,” she said, noticing that its cost was moderate.

“I will too,” added Max, anxious to get rid of the waiter.

“What do you say, Mary Lou? Will you?” His voice was so eager that the girl was deeply touched.

“Oh no, Max. I couldn’t. I don’t love you – or anybody – that way yet. And I couldn’t deceive my parents or let you deceive yours.”

“We might just tell our fathers and mothers,” he suggested.

“No, no, I couldn’t. Let’s don’t even talk about it. I’m here in Philadelphia on a detective job, and I mean to give it my very best. I’ll be sorry to have you go home, but maybe it will be better. I’ll work harder if I haven’t anybody to play around with. Now – what would you say to a dance while we wait for our first course?”

The couple glided off to the music, and more than one person in that big dining room noticed the graceful, handsome pair and envied them their happiness. When they came back to their seats their soup was ready for them.

“Here come your friends,” remarked Max, as Pauline Brooks and her blond companion entered the dining room. “And take a look at the fellows they have with them!”

“I don’t like their looks,” announced Mary Louise emphatically.

“Neither do I, needless to say. Just goes to show you what kind of girls they are… Mary Lou, I want you to drop that Brooks woman. She might get you into harm. Promise me!”

“No need to promise,” laughed Mary Louise. “I’ll probably never see her again now that she’s moved away from Stoddard House.”

Mary Louise ate her luncheon with keen enjoyment. There was nothing like going without breakfast, she said, to give you an appetite for lunch.

“Do you think there’s any chance of your getting home for Christmas?” asked Max wistfully.

“No, I don’t believe so,” she replied. “I try not to think about it. It will be my first Christmas away from home, the first time I ever didn’t hang up my stocking. But, Max, if I could solve this mystery for Mrs. Hillard, it would be worth ten Christmas stockings to me. I just can’t tell you what it means.”

“Yes, I realize that. But it doesn’t seem right. The fun at home – visiting each other’s houses after dinner, and the Christmas dance at the Country Club! Gosh, Mary Lou, I just can’t bear it!”

“Why, Max, I’ll be the homesick one – not you,” she reminded him.

Her eyes traveled around the room while they were waiting for their dessert, and she caught sight of Mrs. Weinberger, eating a lonely lunch in a corner by a window, looking as if she didn’t care whether she lived or died. Mary Louise felt dreadfully sorry for her; she was glad to have an excuse to go to speak to her after lunch.

She took Max over and introduced him. Mrs. Weinberger acknowledged the introduction, but she did not smile. She looked as if she might never smile again.

“Yet how much gloomier she would be if she knew we suspected her daughter and her husband of those crimes!” thought Mary Louise.

“I have a special-delivery letter for you, Mrs. Weinberger,” she said. “I was coming here for lunch, so Mrs. Hilliard asked me to bring it over to you.”

“Thank you,” replied the woman, taking the letter and splitting the envelope immediately. “You heard that my daughter is married, Miss Gay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hilliard told me.” Mary Louise longed to ask when the honeymooners would be back, but she hesitated because Mrs. Weinberger looked so gloomy.

The woman drew a snapshot from the envelope.

“Why, here is their picture!” she exclaimed. “And – he’s positively handsome!”

Eagerly she handed the photograph to Mary Louise, anxious for the girl’s good opinion of the new son-in-law.

What an opportunity for the young detective! Mary Louise’s fingers actually trembled as she took hold of the picture.

But all her hopes were dashed to pieces at the first glance. The man was as different from Mary Louise’s burglar as anyone could possibly be. Six feet tall and broad-shouldered, he was smiling down tenderly at his new wife, who was at least a foot shorter.

“He’s charming, Mrs. Weinberger,” she tried to say steadily. “May I offer my congratulations?”

The older woman straightened up – and actually smiled!

“He is a civil engineer,” she read proudly. “But he couldn’t get a job, so he’s driving a taxi! Well, that’s an honest living, isn’t it?”

“I should say so!” exclaimed Max. “You’re lucky you don’t have to support him – as so many mothers and fathers-in-law have to nowadays.”

Mary Louise was pleased for Mrs. Weinberger’s sake but disappointed for her own. Miss Stoddard was all wrong: the solution was incorrect. And she was just as much at sea as ever!

“There’s your friend Pauline Brooks,” remarked Mrs. Weinberger. “And – look who’s with her!”

“That’s a friend of hers – a Miss Jackson,” explained Mary Louise, as the two girls, with their boy-friends, got up to dance.

“Miss Jackson nothing! That’s Mary Green – the chorus girl who was staying at Stoddard House when my watch was stolen. I’d like to have a talk with that young woman. But I suppose it wouldn’t do any good.”

Mary Louise’s eyes narrowed until they were only slits; she was thinking deeply. Mary Green – alias Miss Jackson! The next step was to find out whether Pauline Brooks too had a different name at this hotel!

Maybe at last she was on the right track.

CHAPTER X

In the Dead of Night

“How about a movie?” suggested Max, as the young couple left the hotel dining room.

“Oh no, Max,” replied Mary Louise. “No, thanks. I have to work now. I’m going to stay right here.”

“In the hotel? Doing what?”

“Some investigating.”

“You think that young man is guilty? He looked honest to me.”

“No, I don’t believe he’s guilty. I – I’ll explain later, Max, if anything comes of my investigations… Now, run along and do something without me.”

“Can I see you tonight?”

“I could probably go to an early show with you after dinner. I’m not sure, so don’t stay in Philadelphia just on account of that. I mean, if you want to start back home.”

“I’m going to start home at daylight tomorrow, morning,” replied the young man. “So I’ll surely be around tonight. At Stoddard House soon after seven.”

“All right, I’ll see you then. And thanks for a lovely lunch, Max. It’s been wonderful.”

The young man departed, and Mary Louise hunted a desk in one of the smaller rooms of the Bellevue – set aside for writing. She placed a sheet of paper in front of her and took up a pen, as if she were writing a letter. But what she really wanted to do was to think.