Miss Maitland Private Secretary Part 38

At Gra.s.slands he had lots of time to try his hand on the ancient contraption in the pa.s.sage. He worked on it until he found the combination and then he lay low for his opportunity. When the row came and Mr. Price left, he stayed on with him. It was the best thing to do as he could run in and out from Cedar Brook seeing the servants, with whom he was careful to be friendly.

Before this he'd got wise to the fact that something was up between Miss Maitland and Mr. Price. He said it was his business to snoop and his profession had got him into the way of doing it instinctive, but I'd set it down as coming natural. Anyway he'd found out that there was a secret between them; he'd surprise them murmuring in the hallways and the library, quieting down quick if any one came along. He made the same mistake as the rest of us, thought it was an affair of the heart and grew mighty curious about it. He didn't explain why he was interested, but if you asked me I'd say he had blackmail in the back of his head.

On the afternoon of July the seventh he biked down from Cedar Brook to take a look round and see how things were progressing. Familiar with the ways of the house, he knew the family would be out and stole round past Miss Maitland's study. No one was there, and, curious as he was, he slipped in to do a little spying-Miss Maitland and Mr. Price separated would be writing to each other and a letter might throw some light on the darkness.

He rummaged about among the papers but found nothing. Scattered over the desk were bits of the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g Miss Maitland had been sewing on; a pile of the little rosebuds was lying on the top of her work basket. Reaching over toward a bunch of letters he upset the basket, and, scared, he swept up the contents with his handkerchief, putting them back as quick as he could. This was the way he explained the presence of the rose in the safe. He was shocked at any one thinking that he had tried to throw suspicion on such a fine young lady. That night, taking the jewels, hot and nervous, his gla.s.ses had blurred the way they do when your face perspires. He had whisked out his handkerchief to wipe them, and no doubt a rosebud lodged in the folds had fallen to the ground. Mr.

Ferguson didn't believe this-he thought the rose _was_ a plant-but I _did_. It was one of those queer, unexpected things that will happen and that, for me, always puts a crimp in circ.u.mstantial evidence.

After that he went round to the kitchen and heard of the general sortie for that evening. Then he knew the time had come. He biked back to Cedar Brook, saw Mr. Price, and went to his lodgings. Here he found his landlady's child sick with croup and offered to go for the doctor, whose house was not far from Berkeley. It fitted in just right, for if there was any inquiry into his movements he could furnish a good reason why he was late at the movies. Before he got to Gra.s.slands he hid his wheel by the roadside and took a short cut through the woods, lying low on the edge of them until he saw the kitchen lights go out. Crossing the lawn, the dogs ran at him barking, then got his scent and quieted down. At the balcony he slipped off his rain coat, put on sneakers, unlocked the front door with Mr. Price's key, and crept in. The job didn't take him ten minutes; just as he finished he saw the box of Mr. Janney's cigars and helped himself to one. He rubbed off his finger prints with an acid used for that purpose, left the broken chair just where it was and departed.

In the woods he lit the cigar, carelessly throwing the band on the ground. Fifteen minutes later he was at the movies with the Gra.s.slands help. When he saw in the papers that a light had been seen by the safe at one-thirty every fear he had died, for at that time he was back at Cedar Brook helping his landlady look after the sick child.

He was too smart a crook to disappear right on top of the robbery, and hung around saying he was looking for another place. He met up with Larkin but at first didn't know he was a detective. When the offer came from Ferguson he took it, intending to stay a while, then say his folks in the old country needed him and slip away to Spain. It was the day after he'd accepted Ferguson's offer that he learned what Larkin was, and saw that both he and the Janneys had their suspicions of Chapman Price. This disturbed him, but he couldn't throw up the job he'd just taken without exciting remark. To be ready, however, he dug up the jewels-he'd buried them in the woods-and put them handy under the flooring of his room.

One day, looking over Ferguson's things, he came on the cigar band in the box on the bureau. It gave him a jar, for he couldn't see why it was put there. He'd heard from the servants about Ferguson and Miss Maitland walking home that night through the woods and began to wonder if maybe they'd found the band. The thought ruffled him up considerably, and then he put it out of his mind, telling himself it was one from a cigar Ferguson had brought from Gra.s.slands and smoked in his room.

Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, he threw it away, very much on the alert, as you may guess.

It wasn't a week later that he had the interview with Ferguson about the band. Then he saw by the young man's manner and words why the little crushed circle of paper had a meaning of its own, and knew that the time had come to vanish. He still felt safe enough to do this without haste, not rousing any suspicion by a too sudden departure. His opportunity came quickly-on Friday morning he heard Ferguson tell the butler that he was going to town and would be away for a day or two; by the time he came back his valet would be far afield.

Right after Ferguson's departure he put the jewels in a bag, and, telling the butler the boss had given him the day and night off, prepared to leave. He was crossing the hall when the telephone rang-my message-and being wary of danger, answered it. It was only a lady asking for Mr. Ferguson, and, calm and steady as his voice had made me, started out for the station. Mice and men again!-I was the mouse this time.

Gracious, what a battered mouse I was!

Well-that's all. The tangled threads are straightened out and the word "End" goes at the bottom of this page. I'm glad to write it, glad to be once again where you can say what you think, and talk to people like they were harmless human beings without any dark secrets in their pasts or presents, and, Oh, Gee, how glad I am to be home! Back in my own little hole, back where there's only one servant and she a c.o.o.n, back where I'm familiar with the food and know how to eat it, and blessedest of all, back to my own true husband, who thinks there's no sun or moon or stars when I'm out of the house. I'm going to get a new rug for the parlor, a fur-trimmed winter suit, a standing lamp with a Chinese shade, a pair of skates-oh, dear, I'm at the bottom of the page and there's no room for "End," but I _must_ squeeze in that I got that reward-Mrs.

Janney said I'd earned every penny of it-and a wrist watch with a circle of diamonds round it from d.i.c.k Ferguson, and-oh, pshaw! if I keep on I'll never stop, so here goes, on a separate line

THE END

BOOKS BY GERALDINE BONNER

_Miss Maitland, Private Secretary_ _Treasure and Trouble Therewith_ _The Girl at Central_ _The Black Eagle Mystery_