The Mystery of the Secret Band

The smell of coffee, of breakfast – for it was only a little after nine o’clock – was overpowering to the hungry, exhausted girl. She sank into a chair with only one cry on her lips: “Coffee!”

Before the constable could even ask her a question, his wife hurried from the dining room with a steaming cup in her hands. She was a motherly woman of about forty-five; three children immediately followed her into the living room to see who the stranger was who had arrived so mysteriously.

“Drink this, dear,” said Mrs. Hodge, holding the cup to Mary Louise’s lips. “I put cream and sugar in it, so it won’t burn you.”

Nothing in her life had ever tasted half so good to the cold, hungry girl as that fragrant cup of coffee. She finished it to the last drop, and a smile broke over her face.

“Was that good!” she exclaimed. “Oh, how much better I feel!”

“You must have some breakfast now,” urged Mrs. Hodge. “Don’t crowd around Miss Gay so closely, children! She needs room to breathe.”

“I’m all right now – really,” said Mary Louise. The warmth of the room was working its magic spell; for the first time now she noticed the Christmas tree and the toys around the floor.

“I’ve been locked up alone in that empty house of Mrs. Ferguson’s since five o’clock last night – ” she began. But Mrs. Hodge refused to let her talk until she had eaten her breakfast.

Mary Louise ate everything that was on the table: a steaming bowl of oatmeal, an orange, half a dozen hot-cakes, two pieces of sausage, a glass of milk, and another cup of coffee. When she had finally finished she said that she believed she had enjoyed that breakfast more than any meal she had ever had.

The whole family listened while she briefly told her story. Beginning with the code letter which had directed her to Center Square, she explained how she had broken into the empty house and how she had been imprisoned by a man who was evidently in Mrs. Ferguson’s employ.

“He admitted hitting me – only of course he didn’t know it was I – over the head last Sunday. He thinks I’m one of Mrs. Ferguson’s gang. So will you go back with me and arrest him, Constable Hodge?” she asked.

“I sure will,” agreed the man, and he told one of his children to run across the yard to get a neighbor to help him.

“I found the stolen goods,” concluded Mary Louise, reaching into her dress and producing the roll of bills and taking the bag of jewelry from her pocket. “Will you take charge of it till I can bring my father up to get it? He’s a detective too, you see.”

Everyone gasped in amazement at the heap of valuables which Mary Louise displayed before their eyes. The children rushed forward excitedly, and the young detective saw no reason why they should not examine them to their hearts’ content. One of the boys even wanted to count the money.

“But how did you get out of that house?” demanded the constable. “Did that man open the door for you?”

“Oh no,” replied Mary Louise. “A member of Mrs. Ferguson’s gang came with a key. I slipped out and locked her inside. That’s why we must hurry back, to catch her before she escapes.”

Mary Louise rose from her chair.

“Can we go now, Constable?” she asked.

“Certainly. Yep, here comes my neighbor, who often helps me make arrests. We’ll take him along in case your man or your prisoner gets uppish.”

“Could we take a mechanic to fix my car, too?” she asked. “It’s frozen.”

“One of the kids will phone to the garage right now to send somebody out.”

They gathered up the treasure, and, leaving it in Mrs. Hodge’s care, Mary Louise, the constable, and the neighbor – a husky six-foot fellow – got into the car. The distance which had seemed so long to the girl an hour ago was covered in less than five minutes.

At the turn into the driveway, Mary Louise saw the man who was waiting for her. Recognizing the constable at once, he made a quick dash to get away. But he was not fast enough: the constable was out of the car in a second, commanding him to stop and displaying his revolver. With an oath on his lips he surrendered.

The constable’s big friend took charge of him while Mary Louise and the officer entered the dark, cold house. The moment they opened the door they heard a girl’s terrified sobs from the living room.

“Who – are – you?” she called, in a voice choking with fear and misery.

“The Constable of Center Square and Mary Louise Gay!” replied the young detective.

The prisoner jumped to her feet and ran out to the open door.

“Mary – Louise – Gay!” she repeated incredulously, bursting afresh into tears.

But Mary Louise had identified her immediately. She was Margaret Detweiler!

CHAPTER XVII

A Sad Story

Mary Louise thought she had never seen anyone change so much in the short space of two years as Margaret Detweiler had changed. How much older she looked, how much sadder, in spite of her expensive clothes! What a strange, trapped expression there was in her eyes, like that of an animal caught in a cage!

“You – are – going to arrest me?” the girl stammered, directing her question to the constable.

“I am doing just what Miss Gay says, at the present time,” replied the man. “So far, I don’t know that you’re guilty of any crime.”

“No, no, don’t arrest Margaret!” protested Mary Louise. “I just can’t believe that she is a member of Mrs. Ferguson’s gang. Why, it’s too impossible!”

“No, it isn’t impossible,” said Margaret, more calmly now. “Mrs. Ferguson is a special kind of criminal who makes young girls do her stealing for her. She picks up country girls who don’t know anybody in the city and trains them… Oh, it’s a long story – and a sad one!”

“Do you mean to say that you did steal, Margaret?” demanded Mary Louise incredulously, for she had never believed that story of Margaret’s theft at the department store. “You must tell me the truth! For the sake of your grandparents.”

“I can honestly say that I have never stolen anything in my life,” replied the other girl steadfastly. “Mrs. Ferguson soon found out that I was no good for that, so she made me guardian of the treasure. I felt almost as wicked. But I never stole.”

“Thank heaven for that!” exclaimed Mary Louise.

“But now I’ve lost her valuables, and she’ll send me to prison,” whimpered Margaret. “Oh, Mary Lou, did you take them?”

“Yes, I took them. They’re at the constable’s home now, and most of them belong to the guests at Stoddard House in Philadelphia. But you shan’t suffer, Margaret, unless you’re really guilty.”

“The young lady is very cold,” remarked the constable. “Hadn’t we better go back to my house, where it’s warm, till your car is fixed, Miss Gay?”

“Oh yes, if you will let us!” agreed Mary Louise enthusiastically. She could see that Margaret’s teeth were chattering, and she remembered how cold she herself had been after an hour or so in that empty house.

“Wait until I get my other things,” she said, running back into the kitchen for the basket which she had packed early that morning. “I’ll put them into the car and see how soon the mechanic thinks he will have it ready.”

She returned in a couple of minutes and found the others already seated in the constable’s sedan. Mary Louise was glad to find that the officer had put Margaret Detweiler in front with him, not beside the tough young man with his huge guardian in the rear seat. She squeezed in next to Margaret, and the car started.

“The mechanic is going to drive my car to your place in about half an hour,” announced Mary Louise. “And then we’ll start for Philadelphia.”

“Fine!” exclaimed the constable. “That’ll give you girls a chance to get warm. And maybe have a cup of coffee.”

“It’s marvelous coffee,” commented Mary Louise. “It just about saved my life.”

Not another word was said about the crimes or the secret band. Margaret Detweiler was introduced to Mrs. Hodge as a friend of Mary Louise’s from Riverside, and the two girls spent a pleasant half hour in the constable’s home, sipping their freshly made coffee and looking at the children’s Christmas toys.

The constable, who had taken the young thug away, returned just as Mary Louise’s hired car drove up to the door.