CHAPTER XII
Amateur Detectives
The girls felt that their short week of strawberry picking was crammedmore full of experiences than a whole term of ordinary school life.There were so many interesting people at the camp who had been workingat various absorbing occupations, and were ready to talk about theiradventures. Miss Hoyle could give accounts of celebrities whom she hadbeen sent to interview by her newspaper; Miss Gordon, the SocialSettlement secretary, had stories of factory girls and their funnyways and sayings to relate; Nurse Gibbons had much to tell about hertraining in a London hospital; Miss Parker was an authority onmunition work, and Miss Lowe, an artist, drew spirited sketches ofeverybody and everything, to the amusement of all. There was a greatfeeling of comradeship and bonhomie in the camp; everyone was ready tobe friendly, and to meet everybody else on equal terms. There was onlyone member who did not seem responsive and ready to mix with theothers. This was Mrs. Vernon, a shy, reserved little woman, who neverblossomed out into any confidences. She would sit and listenattentively to all the tales told by Miss Hoyle and Miss Parker, andwould even question the latter about her munition work, but she gaveno information at all respecting herself or her occupation. It wasrumoured that she was a widow, but the report was not confirmed. TheMarlowe Grange girls did not much like her, and took very littlenotice of her. It was the easiest thing in the world to ignore her,for she seemed to shrink from even the most ordinary civilities, andwould vouchsafe nothing but a curt reply when spoken to.
On the morning after the expedition to Ledcombe there was considerableexcitement in Raymonde's tent. Katherine woke up with her face coveredwith a rash. Morvyth, who slept next to her, noticed it immediately,and told her that she had better stay in bed until Miss Gibbs saw her.Naturally Miss Gibbs was in a state of great apprehension, and fearedthat Katherine must be sickening for measles, scarlatina, chicken-pox,or some other infectious complaint. Manifestly the first thing to bedone was to send for a doctor. The nearest medical man lived atLedcombe, and in order to save time Raymonde and Aveline offered towalk in to Shipley village, and telephone to him from the post officethere.
"Nice little business if Kitty starts an epidemic in the camp!" saidAveline as they went along. "I suppose we couldn't go back toschool?"
"No, and we shouldn't be allowed to pick strawberries either, if wewere infectious. They'd turn us out of the camp, and treat us likelepers."
"Oh, I say! It would be no fun at all!"
They had reached Shipley by this time--a little quaint old-world placeconsisting of one village street of picturesque cottages, most ofthem covered with roses or vines, and with flowery gardens in front.The tiny church stood on a mound, surrounded by trees, and looked farsmaller than the handsome vicarage whose great gates opened oppositethe school. The post office appeared also to be a general store, wherearticles of every description were on sale. From the ceiling weresuspended tin pails, coils of clothes-line, rows of boots or shoes,pans, kettles, brooms, and lanterns, while the walls were lined withshelves containing groceries and draperies, stationery, hosiery, quackmedicines, garden seeds, and, in fact, an absolutely miscellaneousassortment of goods and chattels, some old, some new, some fresh, somefaded, some appetizing, and some decidedly stale.
Raymonde asked to use the telephone, and retired to the littleboxed-off portion of the shop reserved for that instrument, where shesuccessfully rang up Dr. Wilton, and received his promise to callduring the morning at the camp. This most pressing business done, theyproceeded to execute a few commissions for Miss Jones, Miss Lowe, andseveral other members of the party. Miss Hoyle had begged them to buya few yards of anything with which she might trim a large shady rushhat she had brought with her, so the girls asked the postmistress toshow them some white ribbon. That elderly spinster, having first, withconsiderable ingenuity, satisfied her curiosity as to the object forwhich they required it, commenced a vigorous hunt among themiscellaneous collection of boxes in her establishment.
"I know I have some," she soliloquized, "for it was only six weeksago I sold a yard and a half to Mrs. Cox, to finish a tea-cosy she wasmaking. Where can I have put it? No, this is lead-pencils andindia-rubber, and this, neuralgic powders and babies' comforters. Itmight have got into the small wares, but I had that out onlyyesterday. Why, here it is, after all, among the tapes and buttons!"
The girls soon found that shopping at Shipley possessed an immenseadvantage over kindred expeditions in town. When there was only asingle article, no selection could be made; it was impossible to bebewildered with too many fineries, and "This or nothing" offered aunique simplicity in the way of choice. Miss Pearson, thepostmistress, decided for them that the ribbon was the right width andquality, and even offered a few hints on the subject of trimming.
"I believe she's longing to do it herself!" whispered Aveline. "Arethose specimens of her millinery in the window? I'd as soon wear acauliflower on my head as that erection with the squirms of velvet andthe lace border!"
"You're sure three yards will be sufficient?" pattered the littlestorekeeper. "Well, of course you can come for more if you want. I'mnot likely to be selling it out, and, if anybody should happen to comeand ask for the rest of it, I'll get them to wait till you've finishedtrimming your hat. Dear me! If I haven't mislaid my scissors now! Iwas cutting flowers with them in the garden before breakfast, and Imust have put them down in the middle of the sweet peas, or on theonion bed. It wouldn't take me five minutes to find them. You'drather not wait? Then perhaps you'll excuse my using this."
Without further apology, Miss Pearson seized the carving-knife withwhich she usually operated on the cheese and bacon, and, giving it ahasty wipe upon her apron, proceeded to saw through the ribbon,wrapping up the three yards in a scrap of newspaper.
"I'm sorry I'm out of paper bags," she announced airily, "but thetraveller only calls once in six months. Let me know how you get onwith the hat, and, if you want any help that I can give you, justbring it across to me, and I'll do my best. By the by, I suppose youyoung ladies go to a fine boarding-school? Do you learn foreignlanguages there?"
"Why, yes--French and German and Latin--most of us," replied Raymonde,rather astonished.
"Then perhaps you'll be so good as to help me, for there's a letterarrived this morning I can make nothing of. It's certainly not inEnglish, but whether it's in French or German or Russian or what, Ican't say, for I'm no authority on languages."
"Let me look at it, and I will do my best."
Miss Pearson bustled to her postmistress's desk, and with an air ofgreat importance produced the letter. Raymonde took it carelesslyenough, but when she had grasped a few sentences her expressionchanged. She read it through to the end, then laid it down on thecounter without offering to translate.
"This is not addressed to you, I think," she remarked.
"You're quite right, it's for Martha Verney; but she's no scholar, soI opened it for her, like I do for many folks in Shipley. I was quitetaken aback when I couldn't make it out, and Martha said: 'MissPearson, if you can't read it, I'm sure nobody else can!' But I toldher to leave it, in case anyone came into the shop who could."
"Where's the envelope?" asked Raymonde briefly.
"It's here. The writing is small and queer, isn't it? I had to put onboth my pairs of glasses, one over the other, before I could seeproperly."
"You've made a very great mistake," said Raymonde. "The letter isaddressed to Mrs. Vernon, Poste Restante, Shipley."
"Well, I never! I thought it was Martha Verney. There are no Vernonsin Shipley."
"There's a Mrs. Vernon at the camp. No doubt it's intended for her."
"Well, I am sorry," replied Miss Pearson. "To think of me beingpostmistress all these years, and making such a mistake! I'll put itin an official envelope and readdress it. She'll get it to-morrow. Isit important? I suppose you were able to understand it?" with asuggestive glance at the letter, as if she hoped Raymonde would revealits contents.
Raymonde, however, did not answe
r her question.
"I think you had better seal it up at once," she parried, "and drop itinto the box, and then you'll feel you've finished with it."
"Oh, it will be all right! I hope I know my duties. If peopleaddressed their envelopes properly in a plain hand, there'd be nomistakes," snapped Miss Pearson, highly offended, putting back thebone of contention among her papers, and locking the desk. She knewshe had been caught tripping, and wished to preserve her officialdignity as far as possible. "I've opened Martha Verney's letters forthe last fifteen years, and had no complaints," she added.
"Ave," said Raymonde, as the two girls left the shop and turned up thelane towards the camp, "that was a most important letter. I didn'ttell that old curiosity-box so, but it was written in German. I'dFraeulein as my governess for four years before I came to school, so Ican read German pretty easily, as you know. Well, I couldn't quiteunderstand everything, but the general drift seems to be that Mrs.Vernon has a husband or a brother or a cousin named Carl, who isinterned not so far away from here, and is trying to escape. Thisevening's the time fixed, and he's coming into the neighbourhood ofour camp, and she's to meet him, and give him clothes and money."
"Good gracious! What are we to do? Go back and 'phone to thepolice--or tell Mr. Rivers?"
"Neither," said Raymonde decidedly. "After that idiotic business onWednesday night, trying to guard the larder with everybody tumblingover everyone else, it's worse than useless to tell. It would be allover the camp in five minutes, and Mrs. Vernon would hear about it,and go and warn 'Carl' somehow. As for the police, they'd spend a weekin preliminaries. They'd have to send a constable to look at theletter, and ask questions of us, and Miss Pearson, and Mr. Rivers, andno end of red-tape nonsense; and by that time Carl would be safely outof the country, and on to a neutral vessel. No, my idea is to 'set athief to catch a thief'. I'm going to ask the gipsies to help us. Ifanybody can deal with the business, they can!"
"Topping!" exclaimed Aveline. "I'd back the gipsies against the bestdetectives in England."
"I'll go to the field and talk to that woman who caught Dandy for usyesterday. Mr. Rivers sent a horse last night, and brought theircaravan to the farm, so they'll all be at work picking this morning.Don't tell a single soul in the camp. You and I will watch Mrs.Vernon, and follow her if she goes out, and the gipsies shall keepguard in the wood where she's evidently arranged to meet him. They'llget a reward if they catch him."
"That'll spur them on, as well as the sport of the thing!" laughedAveline.
The girls were fearfully excited at the idea of such an adventure.They had never liked Mrs. Vernon, and now saw good ground for theirsuspicions. They wondered how much information she had gleaned at thecamp, for Miss Hoyle and Miss Parker were not very discreet in theircommunications. They walked at once to the gardens, found their Romanyfriend among the strawberries, and with much secrecy told her thewhole affair. As they had expected, she rose magnificently to theoccasion.
"You leave it to us gipsies," she assured them. "Bless you, we're usedto this kind of job. There's a lot of us altogether working here, andI'll pass the word on. There'll be scouts this evening behind nearlyevery hedge, and if any German comes this way we'll get him, I promiseyou. You keep your eye on that Mrs. Vernon! We may want a signal.Look here, lady; come to the back of that shed, and I'll teach you thegipsies' whistle. Anybody with Romany blood in them's bound to answerit."
The gipsy's whistle was a peculiar bird-like call, not very easy toimitate. Raymonde had to try again and again before she couldaccomplish it to her instructress's satisfaction. At last, however,she had it perfectly.
"Don't use it till you must," cautioned her dark-eyed confederate;"but, if we hear it, it will bring the lot of us out. Now I must goback to my picking, or the agent will be turning me off."
"And I must rush back to the camp," declared Raymonde, rememberingthat Miss Gibbs, who had stayed with the invalid, would expect areport of the visit to the telephone. The excitement of the Germanletter had temporarily banished Katherine's illness from her thoughts,and she reproached herself for her unkindness in forgetting herfriend. The doctor called during the course of the morning, and, afterexamining the patient, pronounced her complaint to be neither measles,chicken-pox, nor anything of an infectious character, but merely arash due to the eating of too many strawberries.
"They cause violent dyspepsia in some people," he remarked. "I willmake up a bottle of medicine, if you can send anybody over on abicycle for it this afternoon. You mustn't eat any more strawberries,young lady. They'd be simply poison to you at present. Oh yes! you maygo and pick them; the occupation will do you no harm."
Much relieved that they had not started a centre of infection in thecamp, Katherine and Miss Gibbs returned to work after lunch, thelatter issuing special instructions to her girls against the excessiveconsumption of the fruit they were gathering. Katherine was inclinedto pose as an interesting invalid, and to claim sympathy, but thegeneral feeling of her schoolfellows was against that attitude, andthe verdict was "Greedy pig! Serves her right!" which was not at allto her satisfaction.
"You're most unkind!" she wailed. "You've every one of you eaten quiteas many strawberries as I have, only I've a delicate digestion, andcan't stand them like you can. You're a set of ostriches! I believeyou'd munch turnips if you were sent to hoe them! I don't mind whatyou say. So there!"
As half-past six drew on, and most of the workers were handing intheir last baskets for the day, Raymonde and Aveline kept watchfuleyes on Mrs. Vernon. They fully expected that she might disappear onthe way back to the camp, so, without making their purpose apparent,they shadowed her, pretending that they were looking for flowers inthe hedge. They hung about in the vicinity of her tent untilsupper-time, and changed their seats at table so that they might sitnearer to her in the marquee. When the meal was over, and the washingup and water carrying finished, nearly everybody collected for anamateur concert. Miss Hoyle had a banjo, which she played atrociouslyout of tune, but on which she nevertheless strummed accompanimentswhile the rest roared out "Little Grey Home in the West," "The Long,Long Trail," and other popular songs. It was certainly not classicalmusic, but it was amusing; and, as everybody joined in the choruses,the company consisted entirely of performers, with no audience exceptthe cows in the adjacent pasture. Even Mrs. Vernon was singing, thoughwith an inscrutable look in her grey eyes hardly suggestive ofenjoyment.
"She's doing it as a blind!" whispered Raymonde to Aveline. "Don't lether out of your sight for a single moment!"
When the fun was at its height, and everybody seemed fully occupiedwith ragtimes, two pairs of watchful eyes noticed Mrs. Vernon slipquietly away in the direction of her tent. She went inside for amoment, then, coming out again with a parcel in her hand, walkedrapidly towards a stile that led into the fields. Raymonde and Avelineallowed her to reach the other side of it, then flew like the wind toa gap in the hedge through which they could see into the next meadow.She was walking along the path among the hay, in the direction of thewood, and was no doubt congratulating herself upon getting rid of hercamp-mates so easily. There was nothing at all unusual in the fact ofher taking a stroll; many of the workers did so in the evenings,though they generally went two or three together. Had it not been forthe letter she had read at the post office, Raymonde's suspicionswould probably never have been aroused. The two girls crossed thestile, and began to follow Mrs. Vernon as if they, too, were merelyenjoying an ordinary walk, leaving a considerable distance between herand themselves. She turned round once, but as they were in the shadowof the hedge she did not see them. It was a more difficult business totrack her through the wood. The light was waning fast here, and inher brown costume she was sometimes almost indistinguishable among thetree-trunks and bushes. That she was going to some specially arrangedtrysting-place they were certain. Using infinite caution, theyfollowed her. Towards the middle of the wood she paused, looked round,and, seeing nobody (for the girls were hidden behind a tangle ofbramble), she stood st
ill and called softly. There was no answer. Shecalled again, waited a few moments, and then began to walk farther oninto the wood. She was at a point where two paths divided, and shechose the one to the right.
"Ave," whispered Raymonde, "we must spread ourselves out. She'sevidently looking for 'Carl', and he may be on the other path. Wemustn't miss him. You follow her, and I'll take the way to the left."
Aveline nodded and obeyed. She did not much relish going alone, butshe had a profound respect for her chum's judgment. The path whichRaymonde had chosen was the narrower and more overgrown. She stolealong, listening and watching. After a few hundred yards she came toan ancient yew-tree, the trunk of which, worn with age, was no morethan a hollow shell. It would be perfectly possible for anyone to hidehere. An idea occurred to her, venturesome indeed, but certainlyfeasible. Raymonde was not a girl to stop and consider risks. If anescaped German were in the wood, it was her duty to her king andcountry to try to effect his arrest. All her patriotism rose withinher, and, though her heart thumped rather loudly, she told herselfthat she was not afraid. Going into the middle of the path, shecalled as Mrs. Vernon had done, then dived into the shelter of thehollow tree.
"If he's anywhere near here, that'll bring him!" she thought.
For a moment all was silence, then came a crashing among the bushes,and an answering call. Someone was coming in the direction of theyew-tree.
Peeping from her hiding-place, Raymonde could just distinguish a man'sfigure advancing through the gathering darkness of the wood. Thenawful fear fell upon her. Suppose he were to look inside the hollowtree and find her? He was a German, and a desperate man; she was agirl, and alone. Why, oh why had she sent Aveline away? He would bequite capable of murdering her.
In that moment of agony she bitterly repented her folly. To be sure,there were the gipsies, but she was not certain whether they werereally within call, and would come quickly in answer to her signal.The footsteps drew nearer, they were almost at the tree; she shrank tothe farthest corner, trusting that in the darkness her brown sergeschool costume might escape notice. Just at that moment anothercautious shout sounded through the wood. The footsteps stopped, sonear to her tree that Raymonde could see the flap of a coat throughthe opening; then they turned, and went in the direction of the voice.Raymonde drew a long breath of intense relief, and peeped out. The manwas tacking down a little incline towards the brook, guided by afurther call.
"I've seen he's here, and I know he's going down there to meet her,"thought Raymonde. "It's time for me to act."
She slipped from the tree, ran nearer to the edge of the wood, andgave the peculiar blackbird-like whistle which the Romany woman hadtaught her. Its effect was immediate. Within ten seconds one of thegipsy boys ran up to her, and she told him briefly what had occurred.
"I'll pass the signal on," he replied. "There's a ring of us all roundthe wood. We won't let him go, you bet!"
He gave a low cry like the hooting of an owl, which was at onceanswered from the right and the left.
"That means 'close the ring'," he explained. "We've all sorts of callsthat we understand and talk to each other by when we're in the woods.They'll all be moving on now."
The gipsy boy went forward, and Raymonde, with her heart againthumping wildly, followed at a little distance. This was indeed anadventure. She wondered where Aveline was, and if she were equallyfrightened. She wished she had not left her friend alone.
The gipsies, well versed in wood-craft, walked as silently as huntersstalking a buck. She would not have known they were within a mile ofher, had she not been told. Her boy guide had vanished temporarilyamong the bushes. She stood still for a few minutes, uncertain what todo.
Then there was a shout, and a sound of running footsteps crashingthrough the bushes, excited voices called, and presently between thetrees came five or six of the gipsies hauling a man whose arms theyhad already bound with a rope. The Romany woman, herself as strong asany man, was helping with apparent gusto. When she saw Raymonde sheran to her.
"We've got him right enough, lady!" she exclaimed triumphantly."They're going to take him to the farm, and borrow a trap to take himto the jail at Ledcombe. We nabbed him by the brook as neat asanything. The other young lady's over there."
"Aveline! Aveline!" called Raymonde, rushing in pursuit of herfriend.
The two girls clung to each other eagerly. They were both thoroughlyfrightened.
"Let's go back to the camp," gasped Aveline. "I daren't stay here anylonger. Oh! I was terrified when you left me!"
"What's become of Mrs. Vernon?" asked Raymonde.
Aveline did not know. In the hullabaloo of the pursuit the woman hadbeen allowed to escape. She had the wisdom not to return to the camp,and was indeed never seen again in the neighbourhood. Great was theexcitement at the farm when the gipsies brought in the German. Mr.Rivers himself undertook to drive them and their prisoner to thejail.
Raymonde and Aveline had a thrilling story to tell in the marquee thatnight, where everybody collected to hear the wonderful experience,those who had already gone to their tents donning dressing-gowns andcoming to join the interested audience. Miss Gibbs seemed dividedbetween a sense of her duty as a schoolmistress to scold her pupilsfor undertaking such an extremely wild proceeding, and a glow of pridethat her girls had actually succeeded in effecting the capture of anescaped enemy. On the whole, pride and patriotism prevailed, and thepair were let off with only a caution against madcap adventures.
Raymonde found herself the idol of the gipsies at the strawberrygardens next day.
"We're to have a big reward, lady, for copping that German!" said theRomany woman. "It'll buy us a new horse for our caravan. Will youplease accept this basket from us? We wish we'd anything better tooffer you. I'll teach you three words of Romany--let me whisper! Don'tyou forget them, and if you're ever in trouble, and want help from thegipsies, you've only to say those words to them, and they'll givetheir last drop of blood for you. But don't tell anybody else, lady;the words are only for you."
"What was she saying to you?" asked Morvyth curiously.
"I can't tell you," replied Raymonde. "It's a secret!"
"RAYMONDE DREW A LONG BREATH OF INTENSE RELIEF, AND PEEPEDOUT"]