"What makes you think he has lost the letters?" Susan whispered to her chum. "Didn't he tell Herman Crocker that he would positively deliver them next Thursday night?"
"Yes," nodded Penny, "but obviously he had to say that. I thought he acted very uneasy as if he might not have the evidence in his possession."
The girls did not peep into the barn again for they were afraid that Herman Crocker might see them. Quietly they stole back to the woods and started for the cottage.
"Well, Penny, you were right about Old Herman being a mysterious character," Susan commented as they walked along.
"I feel a little disappointed though," Penny returned. "Now that everything is explained so nicely we'll not have any more fun."
"There are a great many things I don't understand."
"I'm not clear on every point," Penny admitted, "but in general I have an idea of the trouble."
"Then I wish you'd explain it to me."
"Well, from the conversation we overheard, it's evident that Walter Crocker is trying to blackmail his uncle. Only legally I suppose it wouldn't be blackmail because Walter is entitled to the entire fortune."
"Then you believe Herman Crocker really did cheat him out of the money?" Susan asked.
"Mr. Crocker practically admitted it, didn't he? I gathered that sometime during his life he had received letters from his sister, Jenny, and another woman—letters which probably mentioned the boy, Walter. Herman made a bad mistake when he kept those communications."
"But what became of Walter after Jenny's death?" Susan questioned in deep perplexity. "Why didn't his claim to the fortune come up at that time? And how did he get the letters?"
"In some manner Old Herman must have kept Walter in ignorance," Penny replied thoughtfully. "I have no idea how he finally learned the truth. As for the letters, I believe they were stored in the trunk of the cottage attic."
"Think what an opportunity you missed!" Susan exclaimed.
"I'm not sure how long the letters have been there. I remember that several days ago Old Herman came to the cottage and went to the attic. At the time I couldn't imagine what he was after. Now I feel certain he was alarmed because Walter Crocker had attempted to extort money from him. Undoubtedly, he came to find the letters which he knew would stand as damaging evidence against him."
"You think the letters already had been taken?" Susan questioned.
"Herman didn't find what he was after, I know. You remember he accused Walter of stealing the letters."
"Yes, but he denied the charge."
"Walter might have been lying, but he acted sincere," Penny said slowly. "Anyway, when I looked in the trunk—that was after Herman had visited the cottage—a package of letters was still there. However, I doubt that it was the right packet or Herman would have taken it with him."
"Yet you told me that when you went to the attic the second time, the letters were gone," Susan reminded her chum.
"That is right. If the letters wouldn't stand as damaging evidence against Herman I don't see who would want them."
"Mightn't it have been that man who tried to break into your cottage at night?"
"It could have been all right," Penny admitted, "but I didn't hear the fellow in the attic. I was under the impression that he had just entered the cottage when I awoke."
"It seems to me that there is a great deal which isn't explained."
"The part about the letters is still a deep mystery," Penny acknowledged. "But we do know that Old Herman cheated his nephew out of a fortune, and that fate has caught up with him at last."
"I suppose the old man deserves everything he gets," Susan commented. "I don't like him a bit, but for that matter there's something about Walter Crocker that gives me the creeps too. He has such a snakey look!"
The girls emerged from the woods close to the Nichols' cottage. Observing that an automobile stood by the fence, they both halted.
"Why, that is Walter Crocker's car!" Susan exclaimed in an undertone.
"He must have driven straight over here from Herman's place," Penny added. "Now what do you suppose he wants?"
The girls walked slowly on. As they drew near the automobile, Walter Crocker alighted and tipped his hat politely.
"How do you do, Miss Nichols," he said with a forced smile. "I'm not sure if you remember me or not."
"I remember you perfectly," replied Penny, hiding her uneasiness.
She was afraid that the man might have seen Susan and herself peeping through the window of the barn.
"I feel very grateful for the ride which you and your father gave me some nights ago," said Walter Crocker. "I must apologize for running off the way I did without thanking you. I was in such a hurry to reach my uncle's home."
Penny and Susan drew a breath of relief. They were glad that the man did not intend to question them concerning their latest actions.
"Oh, that was quite all right," Penny replied. "We assumed that you had gone on to Mr. Crocker's place."
The young man shifted his weight uneasily. "Oh, by the way," he said, "I don't suppose you found a package of letters in the rumble seat?"
"Letters?" repeated Penny.
"I thought perhaps they might have dropped from my pocket while I was riding with you."
"Were they valuable?" asked Penny very innocently.
"Only to me," answered Walter Crocker shortly. "But I must have them back. Do you mind if I look in the back end of your car?"
"You'd be welcome to search if it were here."
"Where is the car?" demanded the man, in his anxiety forgetting to be polite.
"I couldn't say right now, Mr. Crocker. My father has the automobile."
"When will he return?"
"Probably not before evening," Penny replied, thinking quickly. "You might drop back after supper. He should be here by then."
"Thank you," said Walter Crocker shortly.
He climbed into the car and drove away.
"That's a good one!" laughed Penny, highly amused. "He has lost the Crocker letters all right, and he thinks they may be in our car!"
"Don't you expect your father home before night?" asked Susan.
"Of course I don't know exactly when he'll come," chuckled Penny. "But I'd not be surprised to see him driving in any minute. I wanted to give myself plenty of time to examine the car before Mr. Crocker returns."
"What would you do if you found the letters, Penny?"
"I haven't thought that far," Penny admitted. "But the chance that they're in our car is a very slim one."
The girls stationed themselves on the front porch so that they would not miss Mr. Nichols when he drove in. Two hours later they glimpsed the car coming up Knob Hill.
Penny meant to tell her father everything that had happened during the day, but the detective seemed to have important matters on his mind. When the girls ran down to the car to meet him, he responded absent-mindedly to their greetings and went on into the cottage.
"Penny!" exclaimed Susan. "There's another auto coming up the hill!"
"And it looks like Walter Crocker's car!" Penny cried in alarm. "Quick! We've no time to lose!"
The girls darted to Mr. Nichols' automobile and lifted up the rumble seat. While Susan anxiously watched the road, Penny climbed up and peered into the bottom of the car.
"Susan, they're here!" she squealed in delight.
"And so is Walter Crocker," Susan muttered in an undertone. "He's looking right this way."
With her back turned to the approaching automobile, Penny deftly slipped the package of letters into the front of her dress. She pretended to keep on searching in the bottom of the car.
"Act as if everything is perfectly natural," she warned Susan in a whisper.
Mr. Crocker stopped his car with a jerk and sprang out. He glanced suspiciously at the girls as he came toward them.
"Oh, how do you do, Mr. Crocker," Penny said, climbing slowly down from the rumble. "Dad just drove in a minute ago. I was looking for your letters."
"Are they there?" the man asked sharply.
"Perhaps you ought to look," Penny replied, avoiding Susan's glance. "I had just started to search when you drove up."
Walter Crocker climbed up on the step and made a careful examination of the interior of the automobile. Penny and Susan stood watching him with perfectly innocent faces. They knew that he would not find the letters.
The man did not like to give up.
"They may have been pushed up forward out of sight," he said. "Do you have a flashlight?"
"I'll get one from the garage," Penny offered.
She and Susan went into the building, lingering there while they enjoyed a good laugh at the expense of Walter Crocker.
They were just ready to return with the flashlight when Penny suddenly placed a restraining hand on Susan's arm.
"Wait!" she whispered.
Unaware that the girls were in the garage, Mrs. Masterbrook came hurrying from the cottage. She went directly toward Walter Crocker, her face convulsed with anger.
"Why did you come here?" she demanded. "You should have known better!"
"I had to come," retorted the man in an undertone. He cast an anxious glance toward the garage. "Now get away from here unless you want to give everything away!"
"I didn't know anyone was around," the housekeeper muttered. She turned and fled into the house.
Penny and Susan waited a minute or two before emerging from the garage with the flashlight.
"Sorry I was so long," apologized Penny.
"It doesn't matter," replied Walter Crocker crossly. "I've looked everywhere. The letters aren't here."
"You must have dropped them some other place," said Susan innocently.
"Yes," nodded Penny, "you might have left them at Mr. Crocker's place. Have you inquired there?"
"No, I haven't," the man replied shortly.
Without another word he climbed into his own car and drove away.
"That was a good quip—telling him to inquire of Herman Crocker!" Susan laughed after the man was out of sight. "I thought he would explode with rage!"
Penny was staring thoughtfully toward the house.
"Susan," she said, "Mrs. Masterbrook evidently knew Walter Crocker."
"Yes, that was queer, wasn't it?"
"She seemed to be afraid of him," Penny went on in a low voice. "Or rather, she appeared to fear that someone would find him here at the cottage. What do you make of it?"
"I think," drawled Susan, "that the mystery is a long way from explained."
"And I agree with you," said Penny, "but these letters may help a little. Come on, let's go down to the ravine and read them."
The girls ran down the path to the ravine, selecting a sunny spot by a large rock. From where they sat they could look far down the valley and see the swinging footbridge which Herman Crocker had designated as a meeting place with his nephew.
"Well, here are the letters," Penny said gaily, removing them from her dress. "Wouldn't Walter rave if he knew we had them!"
"They're worth fifty thousand dollars!" Susan laughed. "At least that's the price Walter expects to make his uncle pay for them. Penny, what would happen if we just kept these letters?"
"I suppose Old Herman would refuse to pay over the money. I know I should in his case."
"Then why wouldn't that be a good solution of the matter?"
"It would from Old Herman's standpoint," Penny said dryly. "But you're forgetting that Walter isn't actually a blackmailer. The money really belongs to him."
"Then by keeping these letters we might be depriving him of his rightful inheritance?"
"It seems that way. I don't like Walter any better than you do—he appears to be a rather unscrupulous fellow even if he does have the law on his side. However, we can't let our personal feelings enter into the matter."
"That being the case, why did we interfere at all?" Susan asked. "Wouldn't it have been better not to have taken the letters? Now if we decide to give then back, we'll have a lot of explaining to do."
"You are perfectly right, of course, Susan. My curiosity simply got the best of me again. I felt as if I had to read these letters."
"Then let's read them," Susan laughed.
Penny untied the cord which bound the letters into a neat package. There were eight of them all addressed to Herman Crocker. Return notations in the corners showed that five of the letters were from the old man's sister, Jenny. The others were from the woman named Hilda Frank and were postmarked, Belgrade Lakes, Maine.
"That is a summer resort place," Penny commented as she opened the first letter. "If Herman's sister had plenty of money she may have been staying there."
Susan crowded close beside her chum so that they might read the communications together. The letter from Hilda Frank disclosed several facts of interest. The woman, evidently a housekeeper for Herman's sister, had written to say that her mistress had passed away following a sudden illness. She wished Herman to come at once to take charge of funeral arrangements and to look after Jenny's young son, Walter.
"Jenny thought that no one would take care of him as well as you," the housekeeper wrote, "and the money she left will be more than enough to keep him. It is her wish as expressed in her will that if anything should ever happen to the boy, you are to be the sole heir—otherwise the money is to be kept in trust.
"This will signed by my mistress on the day before her death is now in my possession. I await your arrival before filing it with the court."
The two additional letters from Hilda Frank had been written weeks later, and inquired after the welfare of the boy, Walter, indicating that Herman Crocker after going east to attend his sister's funeral had brought the lad home with him.
"But we're quite certain Herman never arrived here with Walter," Penny commented thoughtfully. "The only boy who has ever been seen at the Crocker place is the old man's grandson."
"What do you think happened?" Susan asked.
"Obviously, from all we have learned, Herman must have decided that he wanted all the money for himself. He then had the boy conveniently disappear."
"How could he hope to get away with anything as crude as that?"
"I don't know, but his plan seemed to work for many years. I suppose there weren't many persons who ever suspected that Jenny had a child."
"Mrs. Frank did."
"Yes, but Herman probably quieted her with some simple story. Anyway, she lived in Maine and that's a long way from here."
"It's inconceivable that he could get by with such high-handed robbery! Stealing from a child!"
"It is disgusting," Penny agreed. "We don't know what became of Walter, but probably he was brought up by some strange person in complete ignorance of his heritage."
"Then how did he learn his true name and that he had a right to the fortune? How did he know about these letters in the trunk?"
"My theory collapses right there," Penny admitted ruefully. "I can't figure that part out at all."
"Let's read the other letters," Susan suggested. "We may learn something from them."
The remaining communications were of no help at all. They were merely friendly letters written by Jenny to her brother telling him how much she and her son were enjoying their stay at the Lakes. She spoke at some length of her declining health and in one paragraph mentioned that if anything ever happened to her she trusted Herman would take good care of Walter.
"After receiving a letter like that how could the old man be mean enough to act the way he did?" Susan asked angrily. "It serves him right to lose the fortune! I'm glad that Walter finally learned the truth."
"So am I," Penny agreed. "Only it's too bad the young man couldn't have turned out to be a nicer type."
"He may not have had the advantage of a good home."
"I realize that, but aside from breeding, I don't like him."
"The point is—what shall we do with these letters?"
"Oh, I guess I'll have to give them back," Penny sighed. "I'll do it sometime before Thursday night."
She retied the letters and slipped them into her pocket. Before the girls could leave the ravine, they heard someone coming through the woods.
A moment later Michael Haymond appeared along the path. He was whistling a tune but broke off as he noticed Penny and Susan.
"Hello," he said pleasantly. "It's another warm day, isn't it?"
Penny and Susan had been too busy to notice the weather, but they agreed that it was unpleasantly humid. Michael paused to chat for a minute or two, and took out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead.
"Have you been cutting more wood?" Penny asked with a smile.
"Yes, I didn't know what else to do."
"We have enough wood to last longer than we'll remain at the cottage," Penny said. "Why don't you try resting now and then?"
"I'm not paid to do that."
"You more than earn your salary," Penny told him. "Dad doesn't care whether you keep busy or not."
"Your father has been very good to me," Michael said soberly. "I don't feel right about it. I think he's keeping me on because he knows I'd have trouble getting any other job."
"Nonsense, Michael."
"I don't feel right about drawing pay for nothing," the young man repeated.
"You let him worry about that," Penny laughed. "Anyway, I suppose we'll be going back to the city soon."
Her words seemed to startle Michael, but after a moment of silence, he nodded.
"Well, I'll be getting on up to the cottage," he said. "Mrs. Masterbrook probably has a job for me. When she can't think of anything else she has me peel potatoes."
"That's her work, not yours," Penny told him. "You're altogether too easy, Michael."
"Your father said that part of my job was to keep Mrs. Masterbrook quiet," the young man grinned as he turned away. "I've discovered that the best way is to do exactly what she wishes with no argument!"
Michael bowed again to the girls and walked on up the path.
"I like him better every day," Susan declared in an undertone. "I think it's a great joke on you, Penny! When he first came here you thought he might be a questionable character."
Penny did not pay very much heed to her chum's words for she was staring at an object lying on the path.
"Michael dropped his handkerchief," she said.
"So he did," Susan agreed indifferently, turning to look. "We can take it to him."
Penny picked up the handkerchief, noticing as she folded it that the linen was not a very expensive grade. She suspected that Michael did not have very much money to spend upon clothing.
Turning the handkerchief over in her hand, Penny saw that it bore a monogram.
"Why, that's odd!" she murmured aloud.
"Now what have you discovered, little Miss Detective?" Susan asked teasingly.
"Look at the markings on this handkerchief," Penny commanded. "The initials are 'M. G.'"
"'M. G.'", Susan repeated slowly, staring at the handkerchief. "What's so startling about that?"
"Michael dropped this handkerchief," Penny said significantly.
"And his last name is Haymond!" Susan cried as light dawned upon her. "Why would he have a handkerchief marked 'M. G.'?"
"Why indeed? The simple answer is that maybe his name isn't Michael Haymond after all!"
"Maybe he happened to pick up some other person's handkerchief."
"He'd not be apt to be using it."
"Once one of yours got into our washing somehow," Susan defended her theory. "Don't you remember I was using it for one of my own until you happened to notice it?"
"That was different," Penny replied. "I'll venture this is Michael's handkerchief all right."
"Oh, you're too suspicious," laughed Susan. "Remember that wild chase we had to Glenhaven just because you thought Michael might be hiding something about his past."
"I'm not sure that it was a wild chase at all," Penny answered soberly. "If you recall, Michael fitted into Mrs. Havers story quite nicely—everything except his last name. And now the initials of this handkerchief could stand for Michael Gladwin."
"Why, that's so," Susan murmured in astonishment. "But it doesn't seem reasonable! What has Michael done that he's ashamed to have his true name known?"
"I may be jumping at another one of my false conclusions," Penny admitted. "Anyway, I think I'll keep this handkerchief."
"If only we had a picture of Michael we might send it to Mrs. Havers for identification," Susan said thoughtfully.
"I was thinking of that," Penny nodded. "We'll get a picture today."
"How? By telling Michael that you've suddenly taken a great fancy to him?"
"We'll take a snapshot. Fortunately I brought my camera along when we came to Kendon."
"Do you have a film?"
"Yes, it's all loaded ready to go."
"Then let's get our prey!" laughed Susan. "But Michael may refuse."
"He shouldn't unless we make him suspicious. Mind, not a word about the handkerchief."
The girls went directly to the cottage for Penny's camera. First they flattered Mrs. Masterbrook by requesting her picture. The housekeeper posed on the porch steps.
"We'd like your picture too," Penny said to Michael who was standing near.
"I'd break your camera," the young man laughed good-naturedly.
"Oh, don't be silly," Susan cried, and catching him by the hand, pulled him up on the porch.
Penny snapped the picture. To make certain that she would have a good one, she took still another.
"That's enough," declared Michael moving away.
Mrs. Masterbrook lingered on the porch, hoping that the girls would take another picture of her. However, they had no intention of wasting any film.
"Let's get it developed right away," Susan declared.
"There's one more picture I'd like to take just to make the record complete," Penny announced as she and her chum walked away from the cottage.
"Whose?" asked Susan.
"Herman Crocker's."
"It would be interesting to keep it as a souvenir of your vacation," Susan agreed. "But try to get it!"
"I believe I could."
"You'd try anything."
"We'll have an hour before the sun is low," Penny declared, glancing toward the western horizon. "Come on, let's go there now."
"I don't like the idea a bit," Susan complained but she allowed her chum to lead her down the road.
"I'll have to think up a new excuse for calling on Herman," Penny remarked as they drew near the house. "That one about wanting to buy eggs is getting pretty thread bare."
"You're inviting trouble to go there again," Susan warned darkly. "Herman will suspect something is wrong the minute you ask for his picture."
"I don't mean to ask," Penny chuckled. "Perhaps I'll just snap it and run."
There was no sign of activity about the Crocker premises. They did not see the dog, and when they rapped on the door there was no response.
"Mr. Crocker and his grandson are gone," Susan said in relief.
"I guess I'll have to give up the picture then," Penny sighed. "I had a particular use for it too."
"Why don't you snap one of the house?" Susan suggested.
"I might do that just to finish out the roll. Then we can take the film down to Kendon and have it developed."
"You mean now?"
"Yes, I'm in a hurry to get the prints. Dad may take it into his head to leave this place any day and I have considerable unfinished business on my calendar."
"It seems as if I've walked a million miles today," Susan grumbled good-naturedly.
"It's good for your figure," Penny laughed. "You don't want to get fat."
"No chance of it around you," Susan retorted.
Penny took the picture and removed the roll of exposed film from her camera. Walking down Knob Hill, the girls left it at one of the drugstores in Kendon.
"How soon may we have the prints?" Penny asked.
"Tomorrow afternoon," the clerk promised.
When the girls had left the drugstore, Penny suggested that they drop in for a moment at Turner's.
"Are you still hopeful that someone will claim the toy lantern?" Susan inquired with a trace of amusement.
"No, I gave up long ago," Penny admitted. "I just keep asking as a matter of routine."
"Mr. Turner would let you know if anything develops."
"He might forget," Penny insisted. "Let's drop in for just a minute."
Susan sighed wearily and followed her chum into the store. Mr. Turner did not look very pleased to see them. He had grown tired of their frequent calls.
"Nothing new?" Penny asked pleasantly.
The storekeeper shook his head. "I think you may as well take the lantern with you," he said. "I'm convinced it doesn't belong to any child around here."
"It begins to look that way," Penny admitted.
She was debating what to do when she felt Susan pluck her sleeve. Glancing quickly up she was surprised to see that Perry Crocker had entered the store. The boy did not notice the girls but walked toward the candy department.
"I didn't know Old Herman ever let him go any place alone," Susan whispered.
"Neither did I," Penny agreed. "Probably Perry's grandfather is waiting outside."
Susan started toward the boy, but Penny restrained her.
"Wait!" she whispered.
The boy had gone directly to the candy counter.
"Good afternoon, Perry," said the storekeeper. "I don't see you very often."
"Today is my birthday," the boy explained in an excited voice. "I'm eleven years old. My grandfather gave me ten cents to spend."
"That's fine," said the storekeeper. "What kind of candy will you have?"
"I want some of those caramels and lemon drops. Or would I get more——"
Perry broke off to stare at the broken toy lantern which stood on the storekeeper's shelf directly behind the candy counter.
"Why, where did you get my lantern?" he asked quickly. "Give it to me."
"Is this your lantern?" the storekeeper questioned, glancing toward Penny and Susan who had remained some distance away.
"Of course it's mine," said Perry. "Please give it to me."
"But how do I know it is yours?" asked Mr. Turner. He had been coached carefully by Mr. Nichols. "A great many boys have lanterns exactly like this."
"It's really mine, Mr. Turner," Perry insisted. "I can tell because I made a new wick for it out of an old piece of white cloth. Someone has smashed the isinglass."
Mr. Turner again glanced inquiringly toward Penny. She nodded her head as a signal that he was to give the lantern to the boy.
"Very well, Perry, here you are," the storekeeper said, handing him the toy. "Now what kind of candy do you want?"
He filled the order and Perry left the store without observing Penny and Susan. Through the plate glass window the girls saw him show the toy lantern to his grandfather. Then he climbed into the car and they drove away.
"I hope I did right to let him take the toy," said the storekeeper anxiously.
"Yes, you did," said Penny quietly. "The lantern has served its purpose now."
"I was very much surprised that it belonged to Perry," went on Mr. Turner.
"It was somewhat of a shock to me too," Penny acknowledged.
"Your father told me a little about the case," the storekeeper continued. "I fear that this clue has no significance for Perry's grandfather is an upstanding man in the community."
"I quite understand," replied Penny gravely. "Thank you for going to so much trouble to help my father. I'm sure that he'll not wish you to speak of this matter to anyone."
"I'll keep it to myself," Mr. Turner promised. "If there is anything more I can do, let me know."
The instant that the girls were outside the store they lost their serene attitude.
"Now what's our move?" asked Susan tensely.
"We must get home as fast as we can and tell Dad," Penny replied. "This clue has a lot more significance than Mr. Turner believes. It probably means that Herman Crocker is the man who took the Kirmenbach jewels!"