AUNT JANE'S NIECES AT MILLVILLE
BY
EDITH VAN DYNE (one of L. Frank Baum's pen names)
1908
Continued....
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE LOCKED CUPBOARD.
Louise and Beth returned to the farm in dismal
silence. Every prop had
been knocked from beneath their carefully erected
temple of mystery. Now
there was no mystery at all.
In a few words, Joe Wegg had explained everything,
and explained all so
simply and naturally that Louise felt like sobbing
with the bitterness
of a child deprived of its pet plaything. The band
of self-constituted
girl detectives had been "put out of business," as
Patsy said, because
the plain fact had developed that there was nothing
to detect, and never
had been. There had been no murder, no robbery, no
flight or hiding on
the part of the Weggs to escape an injured enemy;
nothing even
mysterious, in the light of the story they had just
heard. It was
dreadfully humiliating and thoroughly disheartening,
after all their
earnest endeavor to investigate a crime that had
never been committed.
Uncle John rallied his nieces on their somber faces
at the dinner table,
and was greatly amused when the Major, despite the
appealing looks
directed at him, gave Mr. Merrick a brief resume of
the afternoon's
developments.
"Well, I declare!" said the little man, merrily;
"didn't I warn you,
Louise, not to try to saddle a murder onto my new
farm? How you foolish
girls could ever have imagined such a carnival of
crime in connection
with the Weggs is certainly remarkable."
"I don't know about that, sir," returned the Major,
seriously. "I was
meself inoculated with the idea, and for a while I
considered meself and
the girls the equals of all the Pinkertons in the
country. And when ye
come to think of it, the history of poor Captain
Wegg and his wife, and
of Nora and Thomas as well, is out of the ordinary
entirely, and,
without the explanation, contained all the elements
of a
first-class mystery."
"How did you say the Weggs lost their money?"
inquired Uncle John,
turning the subject because he saw that it
embarrassed his nieces.
"Why, forest fires at Almaquo, in Canada, burned
down the timber they
had bought," replied the Major. "And, by the way,
John, you're
interested in that matter yourself, for the
Pierce-Lane Lumber Company,
in which you own a lot of stock, had contracted to
cut the timber on
a royalty."
"How long ago?"
"Three years, sir."
"Well, we've been cutting timber at Almaquo ever
since," said Mr.
Merrick.
Louise dropped her fork with a clatter, disclosing,
in this well-bred
young lady, an unusual degree of excitement.
"Then there _is_ something to detect!" she cried.
"Eh? What do you mean?" inquired her uncle.
"If you've been cutting timber at Almaquo for three
years, the trees
couldn't have burned down," Louise declared,
triumphantly.
"That is evident," said the Major, dryly. "I've had
it in me mind,
Louise, to take that matter up for investigation;
but you are so imbued
with the detective spirit that there's no heading
you off a trail."
"Before the dessert comes on," announced Uncle John,
impressively, "I
want to make a statement. You folks have tried your
hands at the
detective business and made a mess of it. Now it's
my turn. I'll be a
detective for three days, and if I don't succeed
better than you did,
young women, we'll mingle our tears in all humility.
Eh, Major?"
"Put me in the bunch, sir," said the old soldier, "I
was as bad as any
of them. And go ahead in your own way, if ye like.
It's me humble
opinion, John, that you're no Sherlock Holmes; but
ye won't believe it
'til ye satisfy yourself of the fact."
Next morning the loungers around Sam Cotting's store
were thrown into a
state of great excitement when "the nabob" came over
from the Wegg farm
and held the long-distance telephone for more than
an hour, while he
talked with people in New York. The natives knew
that their telephone,
which was built into a small booth at one end of the
store--next the
post-office boxes--was part of a system that made it
possible for one to
talk to those in far away cities. Often the country
people would eye the
mysterious-looking instrument with awe and whisper
to each other of its
mighty powers; but no one had ever before used it to
telephone farther
than the Junction, and then only on rare occasions.
"It'll cost a heap o' money, Sam," said McNutt,
uneasily, while Uncle
John was engaged in his remarkable conversation.
They could see him in
the booth, through the little window.
"It will, Mac," was the solemn reply. "But the fool
nabob may as well
spend it thet way as any other. It's mighty little
of his capital er
surplus gits inter _my_ cash-drawer; 'n' thet's a
fact."
Uncle John came from the booth, perspiring, but
smiling and happy. He
walked across the street to see Joe Wegg, and found
the youth seated in
a rocking-chair and looking quite convalescent. But
he had company. In a
chair opposite sat a man neatly dressed, with a
thin, intelligent face,
a stubby gray moustache, and shrewd eyes covered by
horn-rimmed
spectacles.
"Good morning, Mr. Merrick," said Joe, cheerily;
"this is Mr. Robert
West, one of the Millville merchants, who is an old
friend of
our family."
"I've heard of Mr. West, and I'm glad to meet him,"
replied Uncle John,
looking at the other calmly, but not offering to
shake hands. "I believe
you are the president and treasurer of the Almaquo
Timber Tract Company,
are you not?"
Joseph looked startled, and then embarrassed, as he
overheard the
question. West, without altering his position of
careless ease, glanced
over the rims of his glasses at the speaker.
"I am the humble individual you refer to, Mr.
Merrick," he said,
briefly.
"But the Almaquo timber all burned down." remarked
Joe, thinking an
explanation was needed.
"That's a mistake," returned Mr. Merrick. "My
company has paid Mr. West,
as treasurer of his company, more than fifty
thousand dollars during the
last three years."
West's jaw dropped.
"Your company!" he exclaimed, as if mystified.
"Yes; I own the controlling interest in the
Pierce-Lane Lumber Company,
which has the contract to cut your timber," answered
Mr. Merrick.
The hardware dealer slowly arose and glanced at his
watch.
"I must get back to my store," he said. "You are
somewhat in error about
your company, Mr. Merrick; but I suppose your
interests are so large and
varied that you cannot well keep track of them. Good
morning, sir. I'll
see you again soon, Joe. Glad you're improving so
rapidly. Let me know
if I can do anything to help you."
With these quiet words, he bowed and left the room,
and when he had
gone, Joe said, in a deprecating tone:
"Poor Bob must be very unhappy about having lost my
father's money in
that speculation, for he advocated the plan very
strongly, believing it
was a good investment. I'm afraid your mistake about
paying him all that
money upset him. Don't mind if he was a little
brusque, sir. Bob West is
a simple, kindly man, whom my father fully trusted.
It was he that
loaned me the money to get away from here with."
"Tell me," said Uncle John, thoughtfully, "did your
father receive stock
in the Almaquo Timber Tract Company in exchange for
his money?"
"Oh, yes; I have seen it in the steel cupboard,"
replied Joe.
"Where is that?"
"Why, it is the cupboard in the right wing of our
house, which was the
Captain's own room. It was one of his whims, when he
built, to provide
what he called his 'bank.' You may have noticed the
wooden doors of a
cupboard built into the stone wall, sir?"
"Yes; I occupy the room."
"Behind the wooden doors are others of steel. The
entire cupboard is
steel-lined. Near the bottom is a sliding-plate,
which, when pushed
aside, discovers a hidden drawer--a secret my father
never confided to
anyone but me. He once told me that if his heart
trouble earned him off
suddenly I ought to know of the existence of this
drawer; so he showed
me how to find it. On the day after his death I took
the keys, which he
always carried on a small chain around his neck and
concealed underneath
his clothing, and opened the cupboard to see if I
could find anything of
value. It is needless to say, I could not discover
anything that could
be converted into a dollar. The Captain had filled
the cupboard with old
letters and papers of no value, and with relics he
had brought from
foreign lands during his many voyages. These last
are mere rubbish, but
I suppose he loved them for their association. In
the secret drawer I
found his stock in the timber company, and also that
of old Will
Thompson, who had doubtless left it with my father
for safekeeping.
Knowing it was now worthless, I left it in the
drawer."
"I'd like to see it," announced Uncle John.
Joe laughed.
"I've lost the keys," he said.
"How's that, my lad?"
"Why, on the day of the funeral the keys
disappeared. I could never
imagine what became of them. But I did not care to
look in the cupboard
a second time, so the loss did not matter."
Mr. Merrick seemed thoughtful.
"I suppose I own that cupboard now," he remarked.
"Of course," said Joe. "But without the keys it is
not serviceable. If
you drill through the steel doors you destroy their
security."
"True; but I may decide to do that."
"If you do, sir, I'd like you to clear out the
rubbish and papers and
send them to me. They are family matters, and I did
not intend to sell
them with the place."
"You shall have them, Joe."
"Just underneath the left end of the lower shelf you
will find the
sliding steel plate. It slides toward the front. In
the drawer you will
find the worthless stock and a picture of my mother.
I'd like to keep
the picture."
"You shall, Joseph. How are you getting on?"
"Why, I'm a new man, Mr. Merrick, and today I'm
feeling as strong as a
buffalo--thanks to your kind guardianship."
"Don't overdo, sir. Take it easy. There's a young
lady coming to see you
today."
"Ethel!" the boy exclaimed, his face turning
crimson.
"Yes," returned Uncle John, tersely. "You've treated
that girl
shamefully, Joseph Wegg. Try to make proper amends."
"I never could understand," said Joe, slowly, "why
Ethel refused to
answer the letter I wrote her when I went away. It
explained
everything, yet--"
"I'll bet the farm against your lame shoulder she
never got your
letter," declared Uncle John. "She thought you left
her without a word."
"I gave it to McNutt to deliver after I was gone.
But you say she's
coming today?"
"That is her intention, sir."
Joe said nothing more, but his expressive face was
smiling and eager.
Uncle John pressed the boy's hand and left him,
promising to call
again soon.
"Now, then," muttered the little millionaire, as he
walked down the
street, "to beard the lion in his den."
The den proved to be the hardware store, and the
lion none other than
Robert West. Mr. Merrick found the merchant seated
at his desk in the
otherwise deserted store, and, with a nod, helped
himself to the only
other chair the little office contained.
"Sir," said he, "I am here to demand an
explanation."
"Of what?" asked West, coldly.
"Of your action in the matter of the Almaquo Timber
Tract Company. I
believe that you falsely asserted to Captain Wegg
and Mr. Thompson that
the timber had burned and their investment was
therefore worthless. The
news of the disaster killed one of your confiding
friends and drove the
other mad; but that was a consequence that I am sure
you did not intend
when you planned the fraud. The most serious thing I
can accuse you of
is holding the earnings of the Wegg and Thompson
stock--and big earnings
they are, too--for your own benefit, and defrauding
the heirs of your
associates of their money."
West carefully balanced a penholder across his
fingers, and eyed it with
close attention.
"You are a queer man, Mr. Merrick," he said,
quietly. "I can only excuse
your insults on the grounds of ignorance, or the
fact that you have been
misinformed. Here is the newspaper report of the
Almaquo fire, which I
showed my friends the night of Captain Wegg's sudden
death." He took a
clipping from a drawer of the desk and handed it to
Uncle John, who read
it carefully.
"As a matter of fact," continued West, "you are not
cutting that portion
of the Almaquo tract which this fire refers to, and
which Thompson and
Wegg were interested in, but the north half of the
tract, which they had
never acquired any title to."
"I suppose the stock will show that," suggested Mr.
Merrick.
"Of course, sir."
"I will look it up."
West smiled.
"You will have some trouble doing that," he said.
"Why?"
"Wegg and Thompson had transferred their entire
stock to me before one
died and the other went mad," was the quiet reply.
"Oh, I see." The lie was so evident that Uncle John
did not try to
refute it.
"I am rather busy, Mr. Merrick. Anything more, sir?"
"Not today. Bye and bye, Mr. West."
He marched out again and climbed into his buggy to
drive home. The
interview with Bob West had made him uneasy, for the
merchant's cold,
crafty nature rendered him an opponent who would
stick at nothing to
protect his ill-gotten gains. Uncle John had thought
it an easy matter
to force him to disgorge, but West was the one
inhabitant of Millville
who had no simplicity in his character. He was as
thoroughly imbued with
worldly subtlety and cunning as if he had lived amid
the grille of a
city all his life; and Mr. Merrick was by no means
sure of his own
ability to unmask the man and force him to make
restitution.
AUNT JANE'S NIECES AT MILLVILLE
Continued....
 
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