The Motor Girls in the Mountains: or, The Gypsy Girl's Secret

“I know that happens sometimes,” agreed Cora thoughtfully, “but it’s very rare, and all the chances are against it’s being true in this particular case. And then, too, the blue eyes the girl has show that she isn’t of gypsy birth.”

“But even if that is true,” objected Belle, “I don’t see what good we can do the girl by getting mixed up in this. If she’s with the gypsies, she may be there of her own accord. She seems to be treated well enough. She didn’t say anything about wanting to get away from them.”

“She hasn’t had time to tell us very much yet,” answered Cora. “But we’re letting the boys get too far ahead of us,” and she put more speed into her car and soon caught up with them.

The next day the rain came down in torrents. It beat in a perfect deluge on roof and windows, and even swept in on the big capacious porch, so that outdoor life of any kind was out of the question.

But it could not dampen the high spirits of the party at Camp Kill Kare. They had been so constantly on the go that the little interval of forced inactivity was not after all unwelcome. The girls were able to catch up with neglected bits of sewing. Then there was the library stocked with choice books, and one of the girls read aloud while the others worked.

The boys ensconced themselves in the barn with Joel, where the old backwoodsman regaled them with stories of his adventures in the earlier days when he had been one of the most noted guides in the Adirondack region.

After supper a big wood fire blazed on the open hearth and took the edge from the damp chill that sought to invade the house. The girls furnished music, and boys and girls together sang songs until they were tired.

The girls had been asleep for an hour or more when Cora was awakened by a knocking on the front door.

“Who on earth can that be at this hour of the night?” she wondered, as she raised herself on her elbow to listen.

The knocking continued, and as nobody else seemed awake to answer it, Cora slipped out of bed, donned a kimono, and softly woke Bess and Belle.

“What is it?” asked Belle drowsily.

“Go away and let me sleep,” murmured Bess, turning over on her pillow.

“There’s somebody knocking at the front door,” explained Cora. “I’m going down to see who it is, and I want you girls to go with me.”

“It may be a burglar!” exclaimed Belle.

“You might get hurt!” protested Bess, wide awake now.

“Nonsense!” laughed Cora. “Burglars don’t usually announce their coming by knocking at the door. Besides, I’ll find out who it is before I open. Slip on your kimonos and come along.”

They obeyed, not without some inward shrinking.

“Don’t you think you ought to wake the boys?” asked Belle, hesitating on the landing.

“I couldn’t do that without waking the whole house, Aunt Betty and all,” answered Cora. “Besides, the boys would have the laugh on us and try to patronize us. We don’t want to be looked on as a lot of cowards.”

Both of the sisters seemed to be perfectly willing just at that moment to be included in that ignominious category, but they were accustomed to follow where Cora led, and they went down the stairs, their slippered feet making no noise.

The knocking still continued, though it seemed weaker than at first.

Cora, with her lighted bedroom candle in her hand, softly approached the door, which was secured by a double lock and also by a heavy chain.

“Who is there?” she asked.

“Please let me in,” came in a woman’s voice from outside.

“Who are you?” Cora repeated.

“Nina,” was the answer. “Oh, please let me in!”

Cora unfastened the chain and turned the key, and as she opened the door the gypsy girl staggered into the bungalow.

CHAPTER XXV

FALSELY ACCUSED

The Motor Girls caught the gypsy girl as she was about to fall and seated her in a chair.

“You poor, poor thing!” exclaimed Cora.

“Out in this pouring rain!” ejaculated Belle.

“And drenched to the skin!” added Bess.

The newcomer presented a pitiable appearance. Her gaudy apparel was torn and bedraggled, her wet hair clung about her face, and she was gasping with exhaustion.

“I had to come!” she panted. “I was afraid!”

Cora had formed her plans with quick decision.

“We must keep this to ourselves for to-night, girls,” she said in a low voice. “She’d be miserable and embarrassed if the boys should come down. We’ll tell them all about it to-morrow. The first thing to do is to get her up in our rooms and give her some dry clothes. Then we’ll get her something to eat and drink and put her to bed. She can tell us her story later.”

“Oh, you are so good!” exclaimed the gypsy girl, covering her face with her hands.

As quietly as they could, they helped her up the stairs and rummaged in their closets for towels and clothes. Then they all set to work, and in a little while the newcomer was dry and warmly dressed in civilized garments.

She was of about the same size as Cora and Belle, and they had no trouble in fitting her out. Bess would have been equally willing to contribute some of her belongings, but her “plumpness” forbade.

It was astonishing to see the difference wrought in Nina by the assumption of the garments of ordinary life. She looked in them, as Belle remarked, “to the manner born,” and when they had dressed her hair in the way they wore their own, there was little trace of the gypsy left, except her bronzed complexion.

She gave a little cry of feminine delight as they made her look at herself in the mirror.

“Oh, it’s so long since I wore clothes like these!” she murmured.

“And now,” said Cora, as she gazed with pleasure on the transformation that had been wrought, “we’ll all go down to the kitchen and see what we can get in the way of something to eat.”

They stole downstairs and the girls ransacked the larder. They found plenty of cold meat and bread and preserves. Belle got out a chafing dish and scrambled some eggs, and Cora brewed a pot of fragrant coffee. Bess set the table and they all gathered about it and ate heartily.

The girls thrilled with the romance of it all. The drenching storm, the midnight hour, the gypsy visitor, the feeling that they were involved in a mystery made them tingle. Then, too, the knowledge that all this was taking place while the other occupants of the house were unconscious of it gave a touch of the surreptitious and the clandestine that was not without its charm.

The gypsy girl of course was somewhat self-conscious, as she could not help being under the peculiar circumstances, but the girls noticed that her table manners were good, and they were more and more confirmed in their conviction that she was not what her dress and surroundings had made her appear.

She spoke mostly in monosyllables and only when addressed, and every once in a while they could see the look of anxiety and fear come into her eyes that they had noted the day before.

“Well,” said Cora at last, when they had finished sipping their coffee, “I guess we’d better get up to bed. You need a good night’s rest,” she continued, addressing their guest, “and we’ll fix you up a bed in our rooms. In the morning you will be in better shape to tell us all you care to.”

“But you ought to know all about me before you do that,” replied Nina. “It isn’t fair to you. Perhaps after you have heard why I came you may regret taking me in.”

“We’ll never be sorry for that,” declared Cora emphatically; “and I feel sure you’ve never done anything you ought to be ashamed of.”

Nina’s face glowed with gratitude at the generous speech.

“Oh, I never have!” she cried. “But I’ve been accused of doing it, and that sometimes in the eyes of the world amounts to nearly the same thing.”

She had dropped all pretence to gypsy speech now, and spoke like any other American girl of good breeding and education.

“I think I’ll tell you now,” she cried impulsively. “That is, if you’re not too tired to hear it?”

“Not a bit,” answered Cora, who was inwardly delighted.

“I’m just dying to hear it, to tell the truth,” said Bess frankly.

“So am I,” echoed her sister.

“You are right,” began Nina, “in thinking that I am not a gypsy. I am an American girl and I was born in this State. And my name isn’t Nina either. But it will have to do for the present, because until this matter is cleared up, I don’t want to tell my real name.

“My mother and father died when I was quite young, and I went to live with an uncle. He was an unusual man, and though no doubt he was fond of me in a way, our natures were too different for us to get along well together. I was hot tempered and hasty and we often quarreled. It was after an exceedingly bitter quarrel that I made up my mind that I would run away from home and earn my own living.

“I got a position in a department store, with just enough pay to keep body and soul together. Again and again I was tempted to go back and make things up with my uncle. But that silly pride of mine kept me from doing it. Oh, how I wish I had!

“There had been a number of thefts in the store, and the manager was furious. He told all the employees that the next one who was caught would be sent to jail. Up to that time he had usually been content with discharging them.

“One day I was called to his office and accused of having picked up a lady’s purse that had been laid on a counter. A man who was employed in the store said that he had seen me take it.

“I was frightened nearly to death, for I had never even seen the purse. But it was found lying under my counter, as though I had hidden it there. I cried and begged and protested, but it did no good.”

“You poor child!” exclaimed Cora, deeply affected.

“The manager must have been a brute!” cried Bess indignantly.

“I suppose he thought I was really guilty,” said Nina, “and he was exasperated by the many other thefts. I thought I should go mad. He took up the telephone to call for a policeman, and in that minute when his back was turned I slipped out of the door down the stairs and into the street.

“Some way I got into the outskirts of the town, where I found a camp of gypsies. I don’t remember much after that. I suppose I must have collapsed. But they took me in and nursed me, and when I came to consciousness again some days afterward, I found that the caravan had moved on and was in a strange town a good way off from Roxbury.”

“Roxbury!” exclaimed Cora.

“That’s where I had been employed,” went on Nina. “When I found myself lying in a gypsy van, with an old woman taking care of me, I did a lot of hard thinking. With the gypsies I was safe. Nobody would think of looking for me there. But anywhere else I was likely to be arrested at any minute. And I would rather have died than gone to jail.

“So I stayed on with them and learned to tell fortunes. I didn’t know what else to do, and gradually I got used to it. But I’ve never been really happy there. And I’ve watched everybody who came to the camp, for fear he might be an officer.”

Cora reached over and took the girl’s hand comfortingly in her own.

Quick tears evoked by the sympathetic action sprang to Nina’s eyes, but she brushed them away and went on:

“I never met anybody I really knew until yesterday. Then I saw a man whom I had known in Roxbury. That’s the reason you found me hiding in the woods. I was relieved when I went back to find that he had gone.

“But to-day he came upon me unawares, and he knew me through all my gypsy disguise. He threatened to expose me, to hand me over to the police. I was wild with fright. You had been kind to me and I thought of you. I waited to-night till the camp was asleep, and then I slipped out. And here I am.”

CHAPTER XXVI

COUNCIL OF WAR

The girl had told her story in such a simple and straightforward way that, combined with the candor in her eyes, it carried conviction to the sympathetic hearts of her hearers. And their eyes were moist as they listened to the pelting of the rain and thought of the fugitive making her way through the lonely woods, her footsteps dogged with terror.

She sat looking from the eyes of one to the other, and was comforted by what she saw there.

“You poor, dear girl!” cried Cora, springing up and giving her an impulsive hug. “You’ve had an awful time of it, but we’re going to do our best to straighten things out and make you forget your troubles.”

“Of course we know who the rascal was that threatened you,” said Bess. “It was that man Higby.”

“He was the one,” admitted Nina.

“You say that he used to know you in Roxbury,” put in Belle. “Was he employed in the same store with you?”

“Not only that,” returned Nina, “but he was the man who said that he saw me take the purse!”

“He, of all men!” exclaimed Bess. “When I saw him in the very act of slipping back Cora’s purse after he had taken it!”

“But why should he have tried to put the theft on you rather than anybody else?” asked Belle.

“I think he had a grudge against me,” answered Nina. “He had been too familiar in his manner toward me, and I resented it. He was angry and told me that I would be sorry. But I don’t think that would have been enough to make him go as far as he did. He worked in the same part of the store that I did, and I have thought since that perhaps he took the purse himself. Then, when the search for it was coming close to him, he got scared, and slipped it under my counter so that the blame would fall on me.”

“A cur like that oughtn’t to be allowed to live!” cried Bess in hot indignation.

“Of course, I don’t know that he stole it,” qualified Nina; “but his eagerness to put the matter on some one else makes me think he might have done so. And even if he isn’t a thief, he knew that he was telling a falsehood when he said he saw me take it.”

“But why should he threaten you now?” asked Belle. “The whole matter has blown over long ago as far as he’s concerned, and he’s in no further danger. I can understand how the coward might have lied in a moment of fright to save his own skin. But why should he be cold-blooded enough to keep on persecuting you now?”

“He’s got some purpose in view,” replied Nina, “and he wants to make me help him by threatening to expose me if I don’t. I don’t know what it is, but from what I know of him I’m sure it’s something wrong. He said he’d see me again tomorrow and tell me his plan. I told him I wouldn’t have anything to do with him or his plans, but he only grinned and said he guessed I’d rather help him than go to jail. I ran away from him then, and later on I made up my mind to come here.”

“You did just exactly right,” declared Cora. “We’ll take care of you until everything is made all right. But you’ll have to keep close to the house, so that nobody besides ourselves will know you’re here.”

“How about the gypsies?” asked Belle. “Won’t they make a search for you?”

“I suppose they will,” answered Nina. “You see,” she said with a little pitiful smile, “they regard me as one of their assets. I make a good deal of money for them from the visitors to the camp. But apart from that, some of them are really fond of me, and I feel the same way toward them. They took me in when I was in extremity, and in their way they have been kind. I never want to go back if I can help it, but I will always have a feeling of gratitude and affection for them.”

“And so you ought,” returned Cora. “But all the same your natural place is with your own people, and you mustn’t have your life spoiled. We’ll set things in motion the first thing to-morrow morning – or rather this morning,” she smiled, as she looked at her watch. “Good gracious, girls, it’s after two now! We simply must get to bed.”

They put out the light and stole upstairs, where, after bestowing Nina comfortably, they were soon sound asleep.

But Cora was astir early, for she wanted to forestall the appearance of Nina at the breakfast table by notifying Aunt Betty and the boys of all that had happened in the night.

“A miracle!” cried Jack, as he came down the stairs three steps at a time, followed by Paul and Walter. “Cora is up before the rest of us!”

“Fair goddess of the rosy-fingered dawn,”

quoted Walter.

“You boys stop your nonsense now and listen to me,” smiled Cora. “I’ve got something very important to talk over with you.”

“The new fall styles, perhaps,” chaffed Walter.

“It’s about the gypsy girl,” began Cora.

“The gypsy girl!” exclaimed Jack, pressing his hand to his brow. “Where have I heard that name before?”

“She’s upstairs sleeping,” said Cora simply.

The effect was electric. The young men dropped their foolery at once.

“What do you mean?” asked Jack, staring at her.

“You’re joking!” cried Walter.

“How did she get here?” queried Paul.

“She came last night about twelve o’clock,” replied Cora, quietly enjoying the shock she had given. “I heard her knocking at the door, and got up and let her in.”

“But why didn’t you call us?” asked Jack.

“I didn’t want to rouse the house,” Cora answered. “I made sure that it was a woman before I opened the door.”

“But that might have been a trap,” reproved Walter. “She might have had confederates with her who would have forced their way in as soon as the door was opened.”

“I didn’t think of that,” admitted Cora. “I knew it was Nina – that’s the name she goes by – and I took her in. The poor thing was drenched from head to foot and was nearly frightened to death. We gave her dry clothes and something to eat and put her to bed.”

And then to the boys and to Aunt Betty, who had entered while they were talking, Cora told in detail what she had learned of the gypsy girl’s story.

The others listened intently, breaking in frequently with questions. Aunt Betty was full of sympathy, though a little dubious about this new element brought into the life of Kill Kare.

The sympathies, too, of the boys were aroused, though their feelings took the form of bitter indignation against Higby. They would have jumped at the chance to form a vigilance committee and thrash him within an inch of his life, if it could have been done without disagreeable publicity for the girls.

As to the mystery itself, they were not as keenly interested as the girls were in solving it. They had a masculine hatred of seeming to pry, and they foresaw a whole lot of possible complications in the presence of the newcomer. But after all, their chivalry was aroused by the girl’s plight, and they cheerfully promised to do all they could to get her out of it.

“On general principles I object to Kill Kare’s becoming an orphan asylum,” laughed Jack. “But you can count on us, sis, to take off our coats and work like beavers to set things right. Eh, fellows?”

“You bet!” replied Walter in his somewhat slangy manner.

“Watch our smoke,” prophesied Paul, and grinned broadly.

CHAPTER XXVII

A NARROW ESCAPE

Cora, greatly relieved now that things had been explained to the rest of the household, went upstairs to find that the other girls were up and nearly dressed.

Nina presented a very different picture from that of the night before. No one looking at her would think that she was different from any other girl who might be staying as a guest at Kill Kare. In a pretty white dress that Belle lent her, she looked charming.

She was naturally diffident and nervous at the prospect of meeting Aunt Betty and the boys. But their good breeding and kindness of heart smoothed over all difficulties. They laughed and jested at the table as usual, including her at times in the conversation, but taking care not to make her feel conspicuous. By the time the meal was over, they had succeeded very materially in putting her at ease.

For the benefit of the servants, it was given out that Nina was a friend who had arrived rather late the night before, and might stay at Kill Kare for some time.

“Let’s hope that Joel doesn’t get wise,” remarked Jack, when he was alone with his chums. “I can imagine the old boy throwing a fit if he learns that we’re harboring anybody connected with the gypsies. He loves them as much as a miser loves a tax collector.”

“I don’t think he’ll catch on,” replied Walter; “but if he does we’ll tell him that our keeping her here is making the gypsies sore. That’ll square things with him.”

“I think it would be a good thing for one of us to run over to the gypsy camp to-day, to see if that Higby is hanging around,” suggested Paul. “We might get a line on where he’s staying and how long he’s likely to be in the neighborhood. And then, too, we might be able to see whether Nina’s absence has raised much of a stir in the camp.”

“I’d like to get my hands on that Higby’s throat,” growled Jack. “Of all the unspeakable cads, he’s the limit.”

“He sure is,” agreed Paul. “But we’ll have to put on the soft pedal if we hope to find out anything. I’ll try to strike up an acquaintance with him, ask him for a match, or something like that. He’s a shallow rascal, and it ought to be easy to worm something out of him.”

“All right, Mr. Detective,” laughed Jack. “Suppose you take that part of the work on you. In the meantime, I’ll write a letter to Tom Willis, an old college pal of mine and Walter’s, who lives in Roxbury, and ask him to make some discreet inquiries about that matter of the theft. Tom’s a good old scout and he’ll be glad to do anything he can for us. I want to find out whether a warrant was actually issued for the girl. If it wasn’t, the girl is all right, and Higby can’t make good on his threats. If it was, we’ll have to get a lawyer, and try to have it quashed.”

“How are you going to find out whether a warrant was issued for her, if you don’t know her name?” asked Walter.

“That’s so,” replied Jack, a little dashed. “I’ll go and have a talk with Cora. Maybe she can get the girl to tell her.”

As a result of his hurried conference, Cora spoke to Nina.

“Jack wants to look up that old matter at Roxbury, Nina, and he can’t do it unless he knows the date and also your name,” she explained. “We don’t want to pry, but you can see yourself that we can’t do much if we go groping round in the dark.”

“It happened a year ago last May,” replied Nina, “and the name to look for is Helen Holman. It isn’t my real name, but it was one that I chose to take when I was afraid my uncle would be hunting for me.”

“And you don’t feel quite ready yet to tell me your real name?” inquired Cora kindly.

“Please don’t ask me yet,” pleaded Nina. “When once I know that there’s no danger of disgracing it, I’ll be glad to tell you.”

Cora did not press her, but returned to Jack with the information he wanted.

“Thank you, sis,” he said. “By the way, are you girls planning to use your car to-day? If not, Paul would like to drive over to the gypsy camp in it. Walter and I want to take my car over to the garage in town to-day to have a few repairs made. These roads have played the mischief with the tires. Besides, I want to lay in a stock of gasoline. I noticed this morning it was running low.”

“We won’t want to use my car to-day, and Paul’s perfectly welcome to it,” replied his sister. “And if you’re going over to Milford I wish you’d bring back some things we’re short of for the spread. You know that comes off to-morrow night. I’ll give you a list of the things we want.”

“Sure thing,” replied Jack.

But an hour later, when he and Walter drove off, his mind was so full of the measures he meant to take in behalf of Nina that he forgot all about Cora’s list.

She herself did not remember it until Jack had been gone for an hour or more. And by that time Paul had driven off in her car to the gypsy camp.

“Oh, pshaw!” exclaimed Cora in deep vexation, “how could I have been so careless? We just can’t get along without those things.”

“Just for a lark let’s go over to Milford ourselves,” suggested Bess.

“And walk?” asked her sister.

“Why not?” said Bess. “I haven’t done as much walking as I ought to lately, and it’s a great thing to help me reduce. Besides, I don’t believe it is more than four miles, and it’s a splendid day for walking.”

“We might follow the railroad through the cut,” said Cora. “That takes off some of the distance. Come ahead, girls, and let’s do it. We’ll probably get there before the repairs are finished on the car, and we’ll give the boys a surprise party.”