The Mystery of the Secret Band

She returned to the hotel about eleven, put Mrs. Hilliard’s gift on her desk and went down to one of the reception rooms to wait for her father. The Walder girls came in – they both had a half holiday so that they might start home early – and they said good-bye to Mary Louise and wished her a merry Christmas.

The slow hands of the clock crept towards twelve. At five minutes of the hour her father came.

Mary Louise saw him the minute he opened the door and rushed to him as if it had been years, and not days, since their parting.

“Oh, Dad, this is grand!” she cried. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able to get here. Are you very busy?”

“No, dear,” he replied as he kissed her. “There’s a sort of lull in my work now, and I had expected to be home for several days. But now I am at your service. Your aunt arrived yesterday to be with your mother over the holidays, so they probably won’t miss me much. I want you to tell me everything that has happened so far. Max said your watch was stolen, and you were hit on the head by a stone. How is your head now?”

“It’s all right, Daddy. And I bought a cheap watch, so I can get along without my good one, though of course I was especially fond of it. But come into the dining room and let’s have lunch while we talk. At least, if you don’t mind being the only man with a lot of women. Max objected to that.”

“No, I don’t mind,” he said. “And I am hungry.”

When they were seated at one of the small tables and had given their orders, Mary Louise began to tell her story.

“I was robbed that very first night,” she said. “Of course, it was pretty dark in my room, but not terribly so, for the street lights show up quite well. Anyhow, I could see well enough to distinguish a small man, with a cap and a black mask.

“Well, we had a watchman on guard that night, and the police got here in no time, but nobody saw the burglar get away. I insisted he was hiding in the hotel, but Mrs. Hilliard had it searched thoroughly, and we couldn’t find a man in the place. I didn’t dream then that it was a girl masquerading as a man. But that is the explanation: a girl named Pauline Brooks, who lived right across the hall from me. Of course, it was the easiest thing in the world for her to slip back into her own room and take off her disguise.”

“Did you search for the burglar in her room too?”

“Yes, we went there the very first thing. Pauline made us wait a minute or two – she said she had just gotten in from a dance and was half undressed.”

“And you believed her?”

“Yes, indeed. We had become quite good friends at supper that night.”

Mr. Gay laughed. “But what finally led you to suspect her?”

Mary Louise went on to tell her father in detail about her false suspicions concerning first Miss Stoddard and then Miss Weinberger, and described her visit to the Bellevue and the catching of Pauline Brooks and Mary Green in the very act of stealing.

“But that wasn’t evidence enough to prove them guilty of the robberies at Stoddard House,” objected her father.

“I know,” admitted Mary Louise. “But I figured out that there is a whole band of these secret hotel thieves, for I’m pretty sure two other members stole some silverware and a vase from Stoddard House a while ago. I believe, too, that a woman whom Pauline called her aunt is the leader… And that’s what I want you to do, Dad. Go after her!”

“But where is she?” he demanded.

“I think she’s in Baltimore now, at the Hotel Phillips, because that’s where the girls got their money for bail. Five hundred dollars. She’s planning to go to Florida, so you have to hurry.”

“What could I do with her if I did find her?” inquired Mr. Gay.

“Couldn’t you arrest her?”

“Not unless I had some evidence against her.”

Mary Louise sighed: it was dreadful, she thought, to know that somebody was guilty and not be able to prove it. But she could see that her father was right.

Mr. Gay was enjoying his lunch. He praised the food and the service to Mary Louise and exclaimed in surprise that the hotel was not well filled.

“It’s partly because of these robberies,” explained Mary Louise. “Several people have moved out just since I came. No wonder Mrs. Hilliard is worried.”

“But she feels encouraged since you found two of the thieves, doesn’t she?”

“Oh, yes, she’s tremendously pleased. She told me I had earned my money, and I could go home. But of course I’m not satisfied. The job’s only half done.”

The waitress approached the table, and offered a menu.

“I’ll take plum pudding,” announced Mr. Gay, “in celebration of the season. How about you, Mary Lou?”

“Chocolate sundae,” was her inevitable choice.

“Where,” inquired Mr. Gay, turning to his daughter, “did this aunt of Pauline’s live when she was in Philadelphia?”

“She stayed at the Ritz.”

“Never at Stoddard House?”

“Oh no.”

“Then we’ll make a visit to the Ritz after lunch. And I think I will take the two o’clock train to Baltimore to see what I can find out about the woman. What does she call herself?”

“Mrs. Ferguson – and sometimes Mrs. Brooks. Possibly there are two different women, but I don’t believe so… But what will you do at the Ritz, Daddy?”

“Just make inquiries as to whether anything was stolen while the woman stayed there, and if so, what. That would give me a reason for going after her in Baltimore.”

“That’s a great idea, Dad!” exclaimed Mary Louise joyfully. “May I go to the hotel with you?”

“Of course. Now, you run along and get your hat and coat and tell Mrs. Hilliard where you are going, while I order a taxi.”

It was not until they were in the cab that Mr. Gay remembered to ask how Mary Louise had received the cut on her head. Max had not told him much, he explained, because he wanted to keep it secret from Mary Louise’s mother, to save her unnecessary worry.

“It was part of my investigation about Margaret Detweiler,” replied the girl, and she hurriedly told her father the reason for her visit to Center Square and its consequences. “But I feel that in some way the two cases are tied up together,” she added, “for the woman who owns the place is named Mrs. Ferguson, and a face which I saw at the window reminded me of the woman Pauline called her aunt. But it’s all very confusing.”

The taxi pulled up at the Ritz, and Mr. Gay and his daughter got out. With his badge, the former had no difficulty in interviewing the hotel detective immediately. He asked whether any money or valuables had been lost at the Ritz during the past week.

“Yes,” replied the other, “some money and a valuable bag containing two pearl rings were stolen last Friday. But we suspected a chap who called himself a traveling salesman, and we’re on his track.”

“Was a Mrs. Brooks staying here at the time?”

“Yes. I remember her well. With two nieces.”

“Please describe her,” urged Mary Louise.

“She is tall and stout – weighs around a hundred and eighty, I should judge. About fifty years old, with black hair done very severely – looks like a wig. Dresses well and wears jewelry. Has false teeth and an ugly mouth, but seems a great favorite with young people… That’s about all.”

“That’s enough,” said Mr. Gay. “Now, can you tell me just what was stolen?”

The detective wrote down the articles on a slip of paper. “A bag containing two pearl rings, and two hundred dollars.” The bag was valuable in itself, being made of gold mesh, he told them.