AUNT JANE'S NIECES AT MILLVILLE
BY
EDITH VAN DYNE (one of L. Frank Baum's pen names)
1908
Continued....
CHAPTER XXI.
THE TRAP IS SET.
Uncle John was forced to acknowledge to his nieces
that his boast to
unmask Bob West within three days was mere
blustering. If he
accomplished anything in three weeks he would
consider himself
fortunate. But he had no wish to conceal anything
from the girls, so he
told them frankly of his interview with the hardware
merchant, and also
what Joe Wegg had said about the stock in the locked
cupboard. They
were, of course, greatly interested in this new
phase of the matter and
canvassed it long and eagerly.
"The man is lying, of course," said Patsy, "for
Captain Wegg and poor
Mr. Thompson could not transfer their stock to West
after that fatal
night when he brought to them the news of the fire."
"I believe the stock is still in this cupboard,"
declared Uncle John.
"Unless West stole the keys and has taken it away,"
suggested Louise.
"I'm sure he did not know about the secret drawer,"
said her uncle.
"Probably he stole the keys and searched the
cupboard; if he had found
the stock he would have left the keys, which would
then be of no further
use to him. As he did not find the stock
certificates, he carried the
keys away, that he might search again at his
leisure. And they've never
yet been returned."
"Why, John, ye're possessed of the true detective
instinct," the Major
remarked, admiringly. "Your reasoning is at once
clever and
unassailable."
"I wonder," mused Beth, "if we could tempt Mr. West
to come again to
search the cupboard."
"He will scarcely venture to do that while we are
here," replied Uncle
John.
"I said 'tempt him,' Uncle."
"And what did you mean by that expression, Beth?"
"I'll think it over and tell you later," she
returned, quietly.
* * * * *
Ethel Thompson would have shown Joe Wegg how much
she resented his
leaving Millville without a word to her, had she not
learned from Mr.
Merrick the boy's sad condition. Knowing her old
friend was ill, she
determined to ignore the past and go to him at once,
and Uncle John knew
very well there would be explanations to smooth away
all the former
misunderstandings.
Joe was now aware of the fact that his letter to
Ethel had never reached
its destination, so, as soon as the girl had arrived
and the first
rather formal greetings were over, he sent Kate
Kebble to McNutt's to
ask the agent to come over to the hotel at once.
The girl returned alone.
"Peggy says as he can't come," she announced.
"Why not?" asked Joe.
"Says he's jest painted his off foot blue an'
striped it with red, an'
it hain't dried yit."
"Go back," said Joe, firmly. "Tell Peggy he's in
trouble, and it's
likely to cost him more than a new coat of paint for
his foot if he
doesn't come here at once."
Kate went back, and in due time the stump of
McNutt's foot was heard on
the stairs. He entered the room looking worried and
suspicious, and the
stern faces of Ethel and Joe did not reassure him,
by any means. But he
tried to disarm the pending accusation with his
usual brazen
impertinence.
"Nice time ter send fer me, this is, Joe," he
grumbled. "It's gittin' so
a feller can't even paint his foot in peace an'
quiet."
"Peggy," said Joe, "when I went away, three years
ago, I gave you a
letter for Miss Ethel. What did you do with it?"
Peggy's bulging eyes stared at his blue foot, which
he turned first one
side and then the other to examine the red stripes.
"It's this way, Joe," he replied; "there wa'n't no
postige stamp on the
letter, an' Sam Cotting said it couldn't be posted
no way 'thout
a stamp."
"It wasn't to be sent through the post-office," said
the boy. "I gave
you a quarter to deliver it in person to Miss
Ethel."
"Did ye, Joe? did ye?"
"Of course I did."
"Cur'ous," said McNutt, leaning over to touch the
foot cautiously with
one finger, to see if the paint was dry.
"Well, sir!"
"Well, Joe, there's no use gittin' mad 'bout it.
Thet blamed quarter ye
giv me rolled down a crack in the stoop, an' got
lost. Sure. Got lost as
easy as anything."
"Well, what was that to me?"
"Oh, I ain't blamin' you," said Peggy; "but 'twere a
good deal to me, I
kin tell ye. A whole quarter lost!"
"Why didn't you take up a board, and get it again?"
"Oh, I did," said McNutt. cheerfully. "I did, Joe.
But the money was all
black an' tarnished like, by thet time, an' didn't
look at all like
silver. Sam he wouldn't take it at the store, so my
ol' woman she 'lowed
she'd polish it up a bit. Ye know how sort o'
vig'rous she is, Joe. She
polished that blamed quarter the same way she jaws
an' sweeps; she
polished it 'til she rubbed both sides smooth as
glass, an' then Sam
wouldn't take it, nuther, 'n' said it wasn't money
any more. So I
drilled two holes in it an' sewed it on my pants fer
a 'spender butt'n."
"But why didn't you deliver the letter?"
"Did ye 'spect I'd tramp way t' Thompson's Crossing
fer nuthin'?"
"I gave you a quarter."
"An' it turned out to be on'y a 'spender butt'n. Be
reason'ble, Joe."
"Where is the letter?"
"'Tain't a letter no more. It's on'y ol' fambly
papers by this time.
Three years is----"
"Where is it? By thunder, Peggy, if you don't answer
me I'll put you in
jail for breach of trust!"
"Ye've changed, Joe," sadly. "Ye ain't no more
like----"
"Where is it?"
"Behind the lookin'-glass in my sett'n-room."
"Go and get it immediately, sir!"
"Ef I hev to cross thet dusty road twic't more, I'll
hev to paint all
over agin, an' thet's a fact."
"Ethel," said Joe, with the calmness of despair,
"you'll have to
telephone over to the Junction and ask them to send
a constable here
at once."
"Never mind," cried McNutt, jumping up hastily;
"I'll go. Paint don't
cost much, nohow."
He stumped away, but on his return preferred to let
Kate carry the
soiled, torn envelope up to the young folks. The
letter had palpably
been tampered with. It had been opened and doubtless
read, and the flap
clumsily glued down again.
But Ethel had it now, and even after three years her
sweet eyes dimmed
as she read the tender words that Joe had written
because he lacked the
courage to speak them. "My one great ambition is to
win a home for us,
dear," he had declared, and with this before her
eyes Ethel reproached
herself for ever doubting his love or loyalty.
When she rode her pony over to the Wegg farm next
day Ethel's bright
face was wreathed with smiles. She told her girl
friends that she and
Joe had had a "good talk" together, and understood
each other better
than ever before. The nieces did not tell her of
their newly conceived
hopes that the young couple would presently possess
enough money to
render their future comfortable, because there were
so many chances that
Bob West might win the little game being played. But
at this moment
Ethel did not need worldly wealth to make her heart
light and happy, for
she had regained her childhood's friend, and his
injuries only rendered
the boy the more interesting and companionable.
Meantime Uncle John had been busily thinking. It
annoyed him to be so
composedly defied by a rascally country merchant,
and he resolved, if he
must fight, to fight with all his might.
So he wired to his agent in New York the following
words:
"What part of the Almaquo timber tract burned in
forest fire three years
ago?"
The answer he received made him give a satisfied
grunt.
"No forest fires near Almaquo three years ago.
Almadona, seventy miles
north, burned at that time, and newspaper reports
confounded the names."
"Very good!" exclaimed Uncle John. "I've got the
rascal now."
He issued instructions to the lumber company to make
no further payments
of royalties to Robert West until otherwise advised,
and this had the
effect of bringing West to the farm white with rage.
"What do you mean by this action, Mr. Merrick?" he
demanded.
"We've been paying you money that does not belong to
you for three
years, sir," was the reply. "In a few days, when my
investigations are
complete, I will give you the option of being
arrested for embezzlement
of funds belonging to Joseph Wegg and the Thompsons,
or restoring to
them every penny of their money."
West stared.
"You are carrying matters with a high hand, sir," he
sneered.
"Oh, no; I am acting very leniently," said Uncle
John.
"Neither Joe nor the Thompsons own a dollar's
interest in the Almaquo
property. It is all mine, and mine alone."
"Then produce the stock and prove it!" retorted Mr.
Merrick,
triumphantly.
At that moment Louise interrupted the interview by
entering the room
suddenly.
"Oh, Uncle," said she, "will you join us in a picnic
to the Falls
tomorrow afternoon? We are all going."
"Then I won't be left behind," he replied, smiling
upon her.
"We shall take even Thomas and Nora, and come home
late in the evening,
by moonlight."
"That suits me, my dear," said he.
West stood silent and scowling, but as the girl
tripped away she saw him
raise his eyes and glance slyly toward the cupboard,
for they were in
the right wing room.
"Mr. Merrick," he resumed, in a harsh voice; "I warn
you that if your
company holds up the payment of my royalties it will
break the contract,
and I will forbid them to cut another tree. You are
doubtless aware that
there are a dozen firms willing to take your place
and pay me higher
royalties."
"Act as you please, sir," said Uncle John,
indifferently. "I believe you
are face to face with ruin, and it won't matter much
what you do."
West went away more quietly than he had come, and
the girls exclaimed,
delightedly:
"The trap is set, Uncle!"
"I think so, myself," he rejoined. "That picnic was
a happy thought,
Louise."
Early the next afternoon they started out with
hammocks and baskets and
all the paraphernalia of a picnic party. The three
girls, Nora and Uncle
John squeezed themselves into the surrey, while the
Major and Old Hucks
rode after them in the ancient buggy, with Dan
moaning and groaning
every step he took. But the old horse moved more
briskly when following
Joe, and Hucks could get more speed out of him than
anyone else; so he
did not lag much behind.
The procession entered Millville, where a brief stop
was made at the
store, and then made its exit by the north road.
West was standing in
the door of his hardware store, quietly observing
them. When they
disappeared in the grove he locked the door of his
establishment and
sauntered in the direction of the Pearson farm, no
one noticing him
except Peggy McNutt, who was disappointed because he
had intended to go
over presently and buy a paper of tacks.
When the village was left behind, Uncle John drove
swiftly along,
following the curve of the lake until he reached a
primitive lane that
he had discovered formed a short cut directly back
to the Wegg farm. Old
Thomas was amazed by this queer action on the part
of the picnic party,
but aside from blind Nora, who had no idea where
they were, the others
seemed full of repressed eagerness, and in no way
surprised.
The lane proved very rocky though, and they were
obliged to jolt slowly
over the big cobble stones. So Beth and Patsy leaped
out of the surrey
and the former called out:
"We will run through the forest, Uncle, and get home
as soon as you do."
"Be careful not to show yourselves, then," he
replied. "Remember our
plans."
"We will. And don't forget to tie the horses in the
thicket, and warn
Thomas and Nora to keep quiet until we come for
them," said Patsy.
"I'll attend to all that, dear," remarked Louise,
composedly. "But if
you girls are determined to walk, you must hurry
along, or you will keep
us waiting."
The nieces had explored every path in the
neighborhood by this time, so
Beth and Patsy were quite at home in the pine
forest. The horses started
up again, and after struggling along another quarter
of a mile a wheel
of the surrey dished between two stones, and with a
bump the axle struck
the ground and the journey was promptly arrested.
"What shall we do now?" asked Uncle John, much
annoyed, as the party
alighted to examine the wreck.
"Send Thomas back to the village for another wheel"
suggested the Major.
"Not today!" cried Louise. "We mustn't appear in the
village again this
afternoon, on any account. It is absolutely
necessary we should keep out
of sight."
"True," agreed Uncle John, promptly. "Thomas and
Nora must picnic here
all by themselves, until nearly midnight. Then they
may drive the buggy
home, leading Daniel behind them. It will be time
enough tomorrow to get
a new buggy wheel, and the broken surrey won't be in
anybody's way until
we send for it."
If Old Hucks thought they had all gone crazy that
day he was seemingly
justified in the suspicion, for his master left the
baskets of good
things to be consumed by himself and Nora and
started to walk to the
farm, the Major and Louise accompanying him.
"We mustn't loiter," said the girl, "for while West
may wait until
darkness falls to visit the farm, he is equally
liable to arrive at any
time this afternoon. He has seen us all depart, and
believes the house
deserted."
But they were obliged to keep to the lane, where
walking was difficult,
and meantime Patsy and Beth were tripping easily
along their woodland
paths and making much better progress.
AUNT JANE'S NIECES AT MILLVILLE
Continued....
 
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