The Mystery of the Secret Band

“No need to promise,” laughed Mary Louise. “I’ll probably never see her again now that she’s moved away from Stoddard House.”

Mary Louise ate her luncheon with keen enjoyment. There was nothing like going without breakfast, she said, to give you an appetite for lunch.

“Do you think there’s any chance of your getting home for Christmas?” asked Max wistfully.

“No, I don’t believe so,” she replied. “I try not to think about it. It will be my first Christmas away from home, the first time I ever didn’t hang up my stocking. But, Max, if I could solve this mystery for Mrs. Hillard, it would be worth ten Christmas stockings to me. I just can’t tell you what it means.”

“Yes, I realize that. But it doesn’t seem right. The fun at home – visiting each other’s houses after dinner, and the Christmas dance at the Country Club! Gosh, Mary Lou, I just can’t bear it!”

“Why, Max, I’ll be the homesick one – not you,” she reminded him.

Her eyes traveled around the room while they were waiting for their dessert, and she caught sight of Mrs. Weinberger, eating a lonely lunch in a corner by a window, looking as if she didn’t care whether she lived or died. Mary Louise felt dreadfully sorry for her; she was glad to have an excuse to go to speak to her after lunch.

She took Max over and introduced him. Mrs. Weinberger acknowledged the introduction, but she did not smile. She looked as if she might never smile again.

“Yet how much gloomier she would be if she knew we suspected her daughter and her husband of those crimes!” thought Mary Louise.

“I have a special-delivery letter for you, Mrs. Weinberger,” she said. “I was coming here for lunch, so Mrs. Hilliard asked me to bring it over to you.”

“Thank you,” replied the woman, taking the letter and splitting the envelope immediately. “You heard that my daughter is married, Miss Gay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hilliard told me.” Mary Louise longed to ask when the honeymooners would be back, but she hesitated because Mrs. Weinberger looked so gloomy.

The woman drew a snapshot from the envelope.

“Why, here is their picture!” she exclaimed. “And – he’s positively handsome!”

Eagerly she handed the photograph to Mary Louise, anxious for the girl’s good opinion of the new son-in-law.

What an opportunity for the young detective! Mary Louise’s fingers actually trembled as she took hold of the picture.

But all her hopes were dashed to pieces at the first glance. The man was as different from Mary Louise’s burglar as anyone could possibly be. Six feet tall and broad-shouldered, he was smiling down tenderly at his new wife, who was at least a foot shorter.

“He’s charming, Mrs. Weinberger,” she tried to say steadily. “May I offer my congratulations?”

The older woman straightened up – and actually smiled!

“He is a civil engineer,” she read proudly. “But he couldn’t get a job, so he’s driving a taxi! Well, that’s an honest living, isn’t it?”

“I should say so!” exclaimed Max. “You’re lucky you don’t have to support him – as so many mothers and fathers-in-law have to nowadays.”

Mary Louise was pleased for Mrs. Weinberger’s sake but disappointed for her own. Miss Stoddard was all wrong: the solution was incorrect. And she was just as much at sea as ever!

“There’s your friend Pauline Brooks,” remarked Mrs. Weinberger. “And – look who’s with her!”

“That’s a friend of hers – a Miss Jackson,” explained Mary Louise, as the two girls, with their boy-friends, got up to dance.

“Miss Jackson nothing! That’s Mary Green – the chorus girl who was staying at Stoddard House when my watch was stolen. I’d like to have a talk with that young woman. But I suppose it wouldn’t do any good.”

Mary Louise’s eyes narrowed until they were only slits; she was thinking deeply. Mary Green – alias Miss Jackson! The next step was to find out whether Pauline Brooks too had a different name at this hotel!

Maybe at last she was on the right track.

CHAPTER X

In the Dead of Night

“How about a movie?” suggested Max, as the young couple left the hotel dining room.

“Oh no, Max,” replied Mary Louise. “No, thanks. I have to work now. I’m going to stay right here.”

“In the hotel? Doing what?”

“Some investigating.”

“You think that young man is guilty? He looked honest to me.”

“No, I don’t believe he’s guilty. I – I’ll explain later, Max, if anything comes of my investigations… Now, run along and do something without me.”

“Can I see you tonight?”

“I could probably go to an early show with you after dinner. I’m not sure, so don’t stay in Philadelphia just on account of that. I mean, if you want to start back home.”

“I’m going to start home at daylight tomorrow, morning,” replied the young man. “So I’ll surely be around tonight. At Stoddard House soon after seven.”

“All right, I’ll see you then. And thanks for a lovely lunch, Max. It’s been wonderful.”

The young man departed, and Mary Louise hunted a desk in one of the smaller rooms of the Bellevue – set aside for writing. She placed a sheet of paper in front of her and took up a pen, as if she were writing a letter. But what she really wanted to do was to think.

“I was wrong twice,” she reasoned. “First in suspecting Miss Stoddard, then in believing Miss Weinberger guilty. I’ll go more carefully this time.

“If my very first guess was right – that the transient guests were stealing the valuables from Stoddard House – I must begin all over again. Mrs. Hilliard said there were two girls staying at the hotel for a day or so when the silverware and the vase were stolen… Are these girls in league with Mary Green and Pauline Brooks? Are they all members of a secret band of thieves? That’s the first question I have to answer.”

She frowned and opened her notebook. Why hadn’t she gotten the names of those girls from Mrs. Hilliard’s old register?

The second crime – the stealing of the watches – she could pin on Mary Green, alias “Blondie Jackson.”

Now for the last three robberies. They had all taken place while Pauline Brooks was at Stoddard House!

Mary Louise considered them separately. Pauline could have stolen Miss Granger’s money and her picture, but it was a man who entered Mary Louise’s bedroom on Friday night and who took her watch and her money. Was one of those young men whom Pauline was dining with today an accomplice? If so, how did he escape from the hotel? Out of Pauline’s window?

Finally, she thought over the circumstances of Mrs. Macgregor’s robbery, and she almost laughed out loud at her own stupidity. Pauline had left her own room as soon as the maid came in to clean it; she had slipped into Mrs. Macgregor’s room and stolen the bag containing the valuables and had left the hotel immediately, before Mrs. Macgregor came out of her bath. Why hadn’t she thought of that explanation before?

The solution seemed logical and plausible, yet how, Mary Louise asked herself, could she prove her accusations? None of these girls had been caught in the act; probably none of them still possessed the stolen articles, and the money had not been marked in any way or the serial numbers taken.

This fact was dreadfully discouraging. If Mary Louise could not prove the girls’ guilt, she could do nothing about it. She couldn’t even assure Mrs. Hilliard that there would be no more robberies at Stoddard House, because she could not know how many members of this gang there were, and the manager could not suspect every transient guest who came to the hotel.

No, she concluded, there was nothing to do but try to catch them in a new crime. If they really made it their business to rob hotels, they would probably carry out some plan here at the Bellevue tonight. Mary Louise’s only course was to watch them.

With this determination in mind, she went to the clerk’s desk in the lobby.

“Could I see the manager?” she inquired.

The man looked at her quizzingly, wondering whether Mary Louise was a patron of the hotel or a society girl who wanted to collect money for something.

“Are you a guest at the hotel, miss?” he asked. “Or have you an appointment?”

“No to both questions,” she replied. “But I am a private detective, and I want to consult him about something.”

“O.K.,” agreed the clerk. “What name, please?”

“Mary Louise Gay.”

The clerk reached for the telephone, and in another minute he told Mary Louise where to find the manager’s office. She followed his directions and walked in bravely, hoping that the man would not think she was dreadfully young.

“I am staying at a small hotel for women called Stoddard House,” she began, “to investigate a series of robberies which they have had there. The Philadelphia police have my name, and if you wish to identify me, please call Mr. LeStrange.”

“I will take your word for it, Miss Gay,” replied the man, smiling.

“These robberies have always occurred when there was a transient guest at the hotel,” she explained. “The last series, while I was at the place, led me to suspect a certain girl; the series before that led other people to suspect another girl. I find these two girls are living here now at the Bellevue – they seem to go from one hotel to another, for they were at the Ritz only last Saturday. They evidently use different names. I should like to meet your hotel detective, explain the case to him, and get permission to watch these two young women.”

The manager did not appear as surprised as Mary Louise expected him to be. But she could not know how common hotel robberies were at the present time.

“I will send for our detective,” he said. “You have my permission to go ahead – under his orders, of course.”

“Oh, thank you!” cried Mary Louise, delighted that so far it had been easy.

The manager sent for the detective, a nice-looking man of about thirty. He introduced him as Mr. Hayden, and repeated Mary Louise’s story.

“What would your plan be, Miss Gay?” asked the detective. He treated her respectfully, as if she were indeed a real member of the profession, and Mary Louise felt proud and happy.

“First of all, I want to find these girls’ names on the hotel register and see what names they are using. Then I want, if possible, to engage a room near theirs and listen for them all night. And third, I want you, or one of your assistants, Mr. Hayden, to be right there in readiness, in case they do anything tonight.”

“You haven’t evidence enough to convict them of the robberies at Stoddard House?” asked Mr. Hayden.

“Oh no. I may be entirely mistaken. It is only a clue I am going on. But I believe it is worth following up.”

“What do you say, Hayden?” inquired the manager.

“I’m glad to help,” replied the younger man. “I’ll be on duty tonight, anyhow, and I’d enjoy the investigation. Nothing is lost, even if nothing does happen.”

“Then let’s go have a look at the register,” suggested Mary Louise.

“Better send for it,” said the detective. “Arouse no suspicions.”

The book was brought to them, and Mary Louise looked carefully for the names of Pauline Brooks and Mary Green. But she did not find them. She did, however, find the name of Mary Jackson, and with it a name of Catherine Smith, both of whom had arrived that day and engaged a room together on the sixth floor.

“Those must be the girls,” she concluded. “Room 607. What’s the nearest room you can give me?”

The manager looked in his records.

“609 is moving out tonight. Would that be time enough – or do you want it now?”

“No, that’s plenty of time. And another thing, can you tell me where Mrs. Weinberger’s room is? I met her at Stoddard House, and she would be a sort of chaperon for me.”

“Her room is on the tenth floor,” was the reply: “1026.”

“Thanks. Then put me down for 609, and I’ll phone Mrs. Weinberger this afternoon. I’ll come back early this evening, and I’ll ask Mrs. Weinberger to meet me in one of the reception rooms. Then, could you come there too, Mr. Hayden?”

The man nodded, smiling. How correct this girl was about everything!

“Then I believe it’s all arranged,” said Mary Louise, rising. “I’ll go back to Stoddard House. And if you have a chance, Mr. Hayden, will you keep your eye on these girls we’re suspecting?”

“But I don’t know them,” he reminded her.

“I’d forgotten that! Well, let me describe them. Maybe if you visit the sixth floor, you will see them go in and out.”

She went on to tell him that Pauline Brooks – or Catherine Smith, as she called herself here – was a striking brunette, and that her companion, Mary Green – or Mary Jackson – was noticeably blond; that both girls were short and slender and wore fur coats and expensive jewelry; that both were as little like the typical sneak thieves as could possibly be imagined.

As Mary Louise walked along the street she decided not to tell Mrs. Hilliard any of the details of her plans or who the girls were that she was watching. If nothing came of her theory, she would feel foolish at having failed the third time. Besides, it wasn’t fair to the girls to spread suspicion about them until she had proved them guilty.

She stopped at a jewelry store and purchased a small, cheap watch, which she put into her handbag. Then she went back to the hotel.

Immediately upon her arrival at Stoddard House she called Mrs. Weinberger on the telephone; then, assured of her coöperation, she went to Mrs. Hilliard’s office.

“I have decided to spend the night at the Bellevue,” she said. “Mrs. Weinberger is going to be my chaperon.”

The manager looked doubtful. “But I promised your father I’d keep you right here with me,” she objected.

“I know, but this is important. I think I’m on the track of a discovery. And Mrs. Weinberger has promised to look after me.”

“Does she know that you suspect her daughter, Mary Louise?”

“No, because I don’t suspect her any longer. Or her new husband either. My clues point in another direction. This time I’m not going to say anything about them till I find out how they work out.”

“I suppose it will be all right, then,” agreed Mrs. Hilliard reluctantly… “What are your immediate plans, dear?”

“I’m going to sleep now till six o’clock, because it’s possible I may be awake most of the night. I’ll have my dinner here with you then, or with the Walder girls, and after that I’m going to a show with Max. About nine-thirty I’ll get to the Bellevue – Mrs. Weinberger is going to wait up for me and go to my room with me.”

“I’m afraid something may happen to you!” protested the good woman.

Mary Louise laughed.

“Mrs. Hilliard, you aren’t a bit like an employer to the detective she has hired. Instead, you treat me like a daughter. And you mustn’t. I shan’t be a bit of use to you if you don’t help me go ahead and work hard.”

“I suppose you’re right, Mary Louise,” sighed Mrs. Hilliard. “But I had no idea what a lovable child you were when I told your father I didn’t mind hiring anybody so young as long as she got results.”

“I only hope I do!” exclaimed Mary Louise fervently.

She went to her own room, packed only her toilet articles in her handbag – for she had no intention of going to bed that night – and lay down for her nap. It was dark when she awakened.

Dressing hurriedly, and taking her hat and coat with her, she met the Walder girls in the lobby and accepted their invitation to eat dinner with them. Immediately afterwards Max arrived at the hotel, and the young couple went directly to a movie.

When it was over, the young man suggested that they go somewhere to eat and dance.

Mary Louise shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Max – I’d like to, but I can’t. This is all I can be with you tonight. I want you to take me to the Bellevue now. I’m spending the night there.”

“What in thunder are you doing that for?” he stormed.

“Please calm down, Max!” she begged. “It’s perfectly all right: Mrs. Weinberger is going to meet me and look after me. But I’d rather you didn’t say anything about it to Mother – I can explain better when I get home.”

“Still, I don’t like it,” he muttered.

Nevertheless, he took her to the hotel and waited with her until Mrs. Weinberger came downstairs.

“Don’t forget to be back home for the dance a week from tonight, Mary Lou!” he said at parting.

Mary Louise turned to Mrs. Weinberger.

“Have you seen the girls – Pauline Brooks and Mary Green?” she asked. She had explained over the telephone why she wanted to stay at the Bellevue.

“No, I haven’t,” replied the older woman. “But then, I have been in my own room.”

“How late do you expect to stay up tonight, Mrs. Weinberger?”

“Till about eleven, I suppose.”

“Will you bring your knitting or your magazine to my room till you’re ready to go to bed?”

“Certainly – I’ll be glad to have your company, my dear.”

Mr. Hayden, the hotel detective, stepped out of the elevator and came to join them.

“There’s a sitting room on the sixth floor,” he said. “Suppose I go there about midnight, Miss Gay? I’m going to have a nap now, but my assistant is in charge, and if you need him, notify the desk, and he’ll be with you immediately. Is that O.K.?”

“Perfectly satisfactory,” agreed Mary Louise.

Taking the key to her room, she and Mrs. Weinberger went up together.

Pauline’s room was apparently dark, but Mary Louise left her own door open so that Mrs. Weinberger could watch for the girls. She herself took up a position where she could not be seen from the doorway. She turned on the room radio, and a couple of hours passed pleasantly.

At eleven o’clock Mrs. Weinberger decided to go to her own room and go to bed. When she had gone, Mary Louise turned off the light and the radio and closed her door. Pulling a comfortable chair close beside the keyhole, she sat down to wait and to listen for Pauline’s and Mary’s return.

The elevators clicked more frequently as midnight approached; more and more guests returned to their rooms. Mary Louise watched them all until she saw Pauline Brooks and Mary Green come along the passageway. They were in high spirits, laughing and talking noisily without any regard for the sleepers in the hotel. Even through the thick walls, Mary Louise could hear them as they prepared for bed.

But in half an hour all was quiet. Both girls were asleep, no doubt – and Mary Louise believed that she had had all her trouble for nothing. She sighed and dozed in her chair.

However, she was not used to sleeping sitting up, and every little noise in the hall aroused her attention. She heard a man come along at two o’clock, and another at half-past. And a little after three she identified the muffled sound of the door of the next room opening!

Leaning forward tensely, she glued her eye to the keyhole. Two young men emerged from the girls’ room and staggered about unsteadily, as if they were drunk. Two very small men, who somehow looked more like masqueraders than real men, although they were correctly dressed, except for the fact that they wore their caps instead of hats and had not taken them off in the hotel.

In spite of their apparently intoxicated condition they walked silently across the hall to room 614. Very cautiously one of them took a key from his pocket, and after a moment or two, he opened the door. Both young men entered the room, but Mary Louise saw that they did not turn on the light as they went in.

“There’s something queer about that,” she thought. And then she remembered the burglar who had entered her own room at Stoddard House and had stolen her watch. He was very like these young men – short and slight and wore a cap. Perhaps these were Pauline’s accomplices!

Cautiously she moved her chair aside and slipped out of her room. In another moment she had reached the sitting room where Mr. Hayden, the detective, was dozing over a newspaper.

“Come with me!” she said briefly, leading him to room 614. “I saw two young men enter this room a couple of minutes ago.”

The detective knocked gently on the door. There was no reply. He knocked again.

The startled voice of a man called out, “What do you want?”

“I’m the hotel detective,” answered Mr. Hayden. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but please open the door.”

A light flashed on in the room, and an elderly man, now clad in his dressing gown, admitted Mary Louise and Mr. Hayden.

“This young lady thinks she saw two young men come in here five minutes ago,” explained the latter. “Were you asleep, sir?”

“Yes,” was the reply. “Your knock waked me up.”

“Then, if you don’t mind, we’ll search the room. Have you anything valuable here?”

“I certainly have! A wallet with five hundred dollars, and a set of diamond shirt studs.”

Mr. Hayden went straight to the closet and turned on the light. Feminine giggles greeted his action.

“Don’ be mad at us, mishter!” pleaded a girl’s voice. “We jus’ had a leetle too mush likker, and we wanted to get some shirt studs for our costumes. We’re goin’ to a nish party, dreshed up like men!”

Mr. Hayden smiled and pulled out the two “young men” from the closet. As he snatched off their caps, Mary Louise recognized them instantly. Pauline Brooks and Mary Green!

“Pauline!” she cried.

“Emmy Lou!” In her surprise, Pauline forgot to act drunk. But the next moment she remembered.

“Pleash let us go, mishter,” she pleaded, taking hold of Mr. Hayden’s coat collar. “Was only jus’ a prank – ”

“Prank nothing!” cried Mary Louise. “And these girls aren’t intoxicated, either, Mr. Hayden.”

“No, I don’t believe they are,” agreed the detective. He turned to the owner of the room. “Suppose you check up on your valuables, sir, while I call the police.”

“You’re not going to send us to jail!” protested Pauline, in a perfectly normal tone. “But we haven’t stolen anything.”

“You stole plenty at Stoddard House,” Mary Louise couldn’t help saying.

Pauline regarded her accuser with hatred in her eyes.

“So you’re the one who’s responsible for this!” she hissed. “Nasty little rat! And I thought you were a friend of mine!”

Mary Louise laughed.

“I’ll be a friend when you and your gang give back all the stolen articles and money,” she replied.

The elderly man who lived in the room interrupted them.

“Two studs are missing,” he announced. “I found the wallet with my money in it on the floor. Yet it was carefully put away last night.”

“Take off your shoes, Pauline!” ordered Mary Louise. “That’s the place to find missing diamonds.”

The girl had to obey, and the studs fell out on the floor.

“It’s enough,” concluded Mr. Hayden. “Here comes my assistant. You girls will come with us till the police arrive.”

“Not in these clothes!” objected Mary Green.

“Yes, just as you are.” He turned to the man. “And now, good-night, sir.”

“Good-night, and thank you a thousand times!” was the reply.

“Thank Miss Gay,” amended Mr. Hayden. “It was her work.”

Tired but satisfied, Mary Louise went back to her own room, and, removing only her shoes and her dress, she slept soundly for the rest of the night.

CHAPTER XI

Bail

Mary Louise did not awaken until nine o’clock the following morning. A pleasant glow of triumph suffused her; she was experiencing her first thrill of professional success. But the occurrence of the preceding night was only a partial victory, she reminded herself; the job was just begun. There were more thieves to be caught, and valuables to be recovered.

She decided to ring for a breakfast tray in her room. She had often seen this luxury pictured in the movies; now was her chance to try it out for herself. While it was being prepared she took a shower and dressed.

Ten minutes later the tempting meal arrived. It was fun, she thought, as she poured the coffee from the silver pot, to play being a wealthy lady, but it would be more enjoyable if Jane were with her… However, she had no time now to think of Jane or of her friends in Riverside; she must concentrate all her mental powers upon the mystery she was trying to solve.

These were the hypotheses she meant to build her case upon:

1. Pauline Brooks and Mary Green were two members of a secret band of hotel robbers, composed probably of women and girls.

2. Pauline’s “aunt,” as she called her, must be the leader, since she went from hotel to hotel.

3. The two transient guests who had undoubtedly stolen the silverware and the vase from Stoddard House were members of the same gang.