The Mystery at Dark Cedars

Mary Louise gazed at the woman in amazement, not knowing whether to believe her or not. The explanation was plausible, but it seemed rather foolish to her – that the eight of hearts should mean eight rubies… Would the ace of diamonds have indicated a diamond ring?

But there was no use in questioning the gypsy’s power, no point in antagonizing her. So, instead, she changed the subject by telling her that a box of gold pieces had been stolen from the safe in Miss Grant’s bedroom.

“Perhaps you can tell me who took them?” she suggested.

The woman picked up the cards and shuffled them again, muttering something unintelligible to herself as she did it. Once more she drew out a card, seemingly at random. This time it was the queen of diamonds.

“A light-haired girl – or woman,” she announced. “That’s all I can say.”

Mary Louise gasped. Elsie Grant had light hair – but, then, so did Corinne Pearson… And Mrs. Grace Grant’s hair was gray.

The gypsy rose from the ground as lightly and as easily as a girl.

“I think you’ve had more than your time, miss,” she concluded. “Now, please to go!”

CHAPTER XII

Bound and Gagged

“How was your fortune, Mary Louise?” inquired Max, as the former emerged from the gypsy’s tent and joined the merry group in the field. “Did she say you’d marry a tall, good-looking fellow, with lots of personality?”

Mary Louise laughed.

“No, she didn’t. I guess I’m going to be an old maid.”

“Then you’re the only one,” remarked Hope. “All the rest of us get rich husbands and trips around the world.”

Elsie came up close to Mary Louise and whispered in her ear.

“She told me to leave Dark Cedars,” she said. “How do you suppose she knew that I lived there?”

“Must have seen you around, I suppose,” replied Mary Louise. “She warned me to get out too, but then I told her I was staying there… But don’t tell Jane, Elsie. She’d go in a minute if she heard that.”

“Hadn’t we better all go – till Aunt Mattie gets back from the hospital? Wouldn’t your mother let me stay at your house if I worked for my board?”

“Of course she would. You wouldn’t have to work any more than I do – just help Mother a little. But I promised your aunt I’d live at her place and sleep in her bed, and I’m going to stay. There’s some explanation for all this superstition about Dark Cedars, and I mean to find it out!”

“Stop whispering secrets!” commanded Max Miller, separating the two girls forcibly. “Of course, Ken and I know you’re talking about us, and what you’re saying is probably complimentary.”

Elsie laughed and followed Mary Louise into the car. The group drove to Hope Dorsey’s, as she had suggested, and ate the rest of the picnic food for their supper. Another round of fun followed, and it was after ten when the party finally broke up.

Dropping Kenneth Dormer at his own home, Max ran the three girls back to Dark Cedars.

“Don’t you think I better go into the house and light the lamps for you?” he inquired. “It looks so spooky in there.”

“Oh, we have Silky for protection,” returned Mary Louise lightly. “Thank you just the same, Max.”

The young man waited, however, until he saw the girls unlock the front door and light the lamp in the hall.

“Everything’s O.K.!” shouted Mary Louise. “We’ll be asleep inside of ten minutes.”

Max waved back again and started his engine. Elsie lighted two more lamps which Hannah had left in readiness for the girls, and all together, with Silky at their heels, they mounted the creaking staircase.

“You can’t sleep upstairs, Silky!” said Mary Louise to her dog. “Miss Grant would never allow that. Go down to your box in the cellar.”

The spaniel seemed to understand, for he stood still, wagging his tail and looking pleadingly at his mistress.

“I think it’s a shame to send him off by himself,” remarked Jane.

“So do I,” agreed Mary Louise. “But it’s got to be done. He’d get up on the bed, as likely as not – the way he does at home. And just imagine what Miss Grant would think of that! Her precious bed!”

Turning about, she led the little dog to the cellar, and there, in a box next to the kitten’s, he settled down to sleep. When she returned the girls were waiting for her in Miss Grant’s bedroom.

“How do we sleep tonight?” inquired Elsie.

“Oh, you can have Jane again if you want her,” agreed Mary Louise. “It doesn’t make any difference to me.”

The younger girl was delighted.

“Only,” added Mary Louise, “if you expect to do any prowling around tonight, please shout your presence in the room.”

“I expect to go right to sleep,” replied Elsie. “With Jane beside me, I’ll feel safe.”

Mary Louise smiled and kissed her goodnight. In many ways Elsie Grant seemed like a child to her, in spite of her fifteen years.

Alone in the room, she undressed quickly, hanging her clothing on a chair, for she could not bring herself to use that big, old closet, filled with Miss Grant’s things. She was very tired, and, thankful that the night was so much cooler than the preceding one, she blew out the lamp and crawled into bed.

The utter blackness of the room was rather appalling, even to a courageous girl like Mary Louise. Accustomed as she was to the street lights of Riverside, the darkness was thick and strange, for the denseness of the trees about Dark Cedars shut out even the sky, with its stars, from the windows. But Mary Louise closed her eyes immediately, resolved not to let anything so trivial bother her.

The girls in the attic had quieted down; the house was in absolute silence. Mary Louise, too, lay very still. Listening… She almost believed that she heard somebody breathing!

“But that’s absurd!” she reprimanded herself sharply. “It couldn’t be a ghost, as Hannah insists, for ghosts don’t breathe. And it couldn’t be a robber trying to get into the house, or Silky would be barking. That dog has keen ears.”

She turned over and put the thought out of her mind by recalling the high lights of the picnic, and soon dozed off. But she knew that she had not been asleep long when she was suddenly awakened by the low, squeaking creak of a door.

Thinking it was probably Elsie, restless after too much picnic food, Mary Louise opened her eyes and peered about in the darkness. Now she heard that breathing distinctly – and something big and dark seemed to be moving towards her, something blacker than the darkness of the room. No face was visible to her until the figure bent over close to her in the bed. Then she beheld two gleaming eyes!

She opened her lips to scream, but at the same instant a thin hand was clapped over her mouth, making utterance impossible. Both her hands were caught and held in an iron grip, and a bag was pulled over her head and tied so tightly under her chin that she believed she would choke.

Mary Louise could see nothing now, but she felt a rope being twisted around her body, tying her arms to her sides. In another second she was lifted bodily and tossed roughly into Miss Grant’s closet… The key was turned in the lock.

In wild desperation Mary Louise tried to shout, but the thickness and tightness of the bag over her head muffled the sound, and the closet walls closed it in. The girls in the attic would never hear her, for they were at the back of the house, and probably sleeping soundly. So she abandoned the effort, and became quiet, twisting her hands about under the rope, and listening to the sounds from the room.

Whoever, whatever it was that had attacked her was moving about stealthily, making a queer noise that sounded like the tearing of a garment. For a brief moment the thought of Corinne Pearson jumped into her mind. Had the girl come here to get revenge on Mary Louise for disclosing her guilt, and was she tearing her clothes to pieces?

But such an explanation was too absurd to be possible. It couldn’t be Corinne – she was at that dance with Ned Mason. But it might be Harry Grant, searching for that precious possession of his aunt Mattie’s – that ruby necklace, if the gypsy was correct… But, no, Mary Louise did not believe it was Harry – or any man. Something about the motion of the figure, the touch of its hands, proclaimed it to be feminine… She thought of that ghost Hannah had described, the spirit of dead Mrs. Grant, looking for the hidden treasure, and she shuddered.

The tearing and ripping was becoming more pronounced. Mary Louise listened more intently, still twisting her hands about in an effort to free them.