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The Missing Formula
By Ann Wirt
The Madge Sterling Series
The Missing Formula The Deserted Yacht The Secret of the Sundial
THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING COMPANY NEW YORK
Copyright, 1932 The Goldsmith Publishing Company Made in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I Caught in the Storm 11 II A Rescue 20 III A Puzzling Letter 29 IV A Fruitless Search 38 V Clyde Wendell's Mission 47 VI Startling Developments 55 VII In a Hollow Log 67 VIII A Night Caller 78 IX A Significant Title 86 X An Unsatisfactory Test 91 XI The Secret Hiding Place 97 XII The Awaited Message 103 XIII The Missing Book 108 XIV The Shortcut 117 XV What the Book Revealed 121
THE MISSING FORMULA
CHAPTER I Caught in the Storm
"You couldn't hire me to spend a night alone at Stewart Island! Imaginehow lonely and terrifying it must be for Anne Fairaday!"
Madge Sterling did not give the impression of a girl easily daunted.Gazing out across the stretch of ruffled water toward the pine-coveredisle which drowsed like a huge green sea turtle in the heat of amidsummer sun, she made a most striking picture. Her auburn hair had beenwhipped carelessly back from her face by the wind. She was tanned to ahealthy, mellow bronze, and the blue of her sweater exactly matched theblue of her eyes--eyes which at the moment were troubled and serious.
"It doesn't seem right for Anne to stay there without a companion," shecontinued, addressing the kindly-faced, elderly woman who stood besideher at the boat landing.
Mrs. Brady nodded soberly.
"We really should do something about it. I had no idea she was stayingalone until Jack French told us this morning. Of course, the Fairadaysalways have kept to themselves. This girl may not care to have usinterfere in her private affairs."
"Everything is changed now, Aunt Maude," Madge protested quickly. "I'msure Anne would have mixed more with folks if her father hadn't kept herso close at home. Now that he is dead she needs friends more than ever."
"Why not go over there this afternoon and find out how matters stand?"Mrs. Brady suggested quietly. "The least we can do is to invite her tostay here at the lodge until she has had time to plan her future."
Madge's face brightened and she gave her aunt an affectionate squeeze.
"I knew you'd say that! I'll start this very minute!"
She promptly untied a canoe moored at the landing but before she couldlaunch it two men with axes swung over their shoulders came down theshore trail. Recognizing Mr. Brady and Old Bill Ramey, theman-of-all-work about the lodge, Madge was in the act of stepping intothe canoe when her uncle hailed her.
She did not attempt an answer but waited until he drew nearer thelanding. He came at a brisk pace, carrying his fifty-two years with ajaunty vigor that was the envy of many a younger man. His ruddy cheekswere framed in a healthy tan acquired by a life-long devotion to theout-of-doors and his alert, blue eyes snapped with the joy of beingalive.
"Where away, Chick-a-dee?" he inquired with interest.
"I thought I'd paddle over to Stewart Island," Madge informed. "Do youwant the canoe, Uncle George?"
"No, you're welcome to it, only I wonder if you noticed the clouds." Mr.Brady turned to survey the horizon. "It looks to me as though a storm mayblow up. It probably won't amount to much but I believe you'll be saferin the skiff."
"Oh, bother!" Madge grumbled, casting an aggrieved glance at the boat."It would take me all day to get over to the island in that cumbersomething!"
After a brief study of the sky she thought better of it and reluctantlylaunched the skiff. She bent to the oars and with practiced skill sentthe craft skimming over the water. Rounding the point, she lost sight ofher aunt and uncle who had turned back toward the Brady lodge.
Madge had arrived at Loon Lake only three days before, but already shefound herself slipping naturally back into the easy, carefree ways of awilderness environment. She sniffed the fragrant balsam air contentedlyand allowed the boat to drift while she watched a long-necked crane sailmajestically over the water.
"Oh, I wish the summers were years and years long," she thoughtwistfully. "I could live here forever and never tire of it."
Madge always looked forward to the vacations spent at the Brady'sCanadian fishing lodge, located on secluded Lake Loon, in a timber berthtwenty miles from the nearest town of Luxlow. During the remaining ninemonths of the year, she lived with her aunt and uncle at Claymore,Michigan, but since Mr. Brady was an enthusiastic fisherman, each summersaw the trio headed northward.
Madge regarded Mr. and Mrs. Brady as parents for her mother had died whenshe was a baby and a short time later, her father, Graham Sterling hadgone West on a prospecting expedition, never to be heard from again.Although the Bradys had built their lodge for private use, they had beeninduced to open it to a small number of select guests who appreciatedgood food and excellent fishing. Madge did not mind the extra work whichfell to her lot since she always had time for the things she enjoyed. Sheliked all outdoor sports. She swam like a fish and was an expert with acanoe. Then too, she had a special talent for making friends and kneweveryone in the vicinity of Loon Lake, including the guides, the touristsand the forest rangers.
Jack French, a handsome young ranger at Lookout 48, had not been slow inmeeting Madge. He had taught her how to handle a canoe, where to look forbass and how to make a fire without matches; from him she had learned thenames of trees and strange shrubs. He teased her too and laughed when sheaccused him of treating her as a child.
"Just you wait!" she had stormed. "I'll grow up one of these days--andwhen I do--"
"And when you do," he had picked her up, but with an undercurrent ofseriousness, "well, then I guess it will be time for Jack French to watchout."
Madge caught herself gazing intently toward the lookout station visibleon a distant hillside. Jack had called at the lodge only that morning yetsomehow he had seemed changed, more reserved. He had tried to tease herin the old manner, but his kidding had lacked its usual carelessness.
During the three summers spent at Loon Lake, Madge scarcely had spoken adozen words either to Anne Fairaday or her father. Often she had gazedspeculatively at the fine home they had built upon Stewart Island,wondering why the two were so aloof. It was generally known that Mr.Fairaday was a noted chemist who had come North for his health and thebelief was that Anne remained close at home to care for him.
"Now that he's gone I hope she'll agree to stay at the lodge," Madgethought as she sent the skiff smoothly through the water. "I believe we'dbecome friends if we c
ould ever really meet."
It was pleasant on the lake with the sun half-hidden under a cloud. Moreoften than she realized, Madge rested on her oars to watch queer insectsswimming in the water or birds winging low in search for fish.
She had covered little more than half the distance to Stewart Island,when abruptly, she ceased rowing. Toward the south shore of the lake, ared canoe could be seen cutting through the water at a lively rate.
"There's Anne Fairaday now!" she exclaimed. "Where's she going, Iwonder?"
A moment later she saw the girl head directly for the main landing,apparently to obtain mail and supplies which were left there for her bythe forest rangers or old Bill Ramey who made weekly trips to town.
"She's too far away to hail," Madge decided. "Unless I catch her as shereturns to the island, I'll have made my trip for nothing."
After a brief mental debate, she again snatched up the oars, rowingsteadily toward a rocky point on the south shore. It had occurred to herthat while she awaited Anne's return she could busy herself resetting heruncle's minnow trap.
She crossed the lake and located the wire trap which had floated a shortdistance from its usual place. After baiting it with some bread which heruncle kept in a box under the boat seat, she anchored the trap in shallowwater near the rocks.
Glancing up from her work, she was startled to see how dark it had grown.Dark clouds were rolling up fast.
"We're in for a real storm," she told herself uneasily. "I didn't thinkit would come up so quickly. Guess I'd better not wait for Anne. Unless Istrike for home, I'll be caught in it."
A low, ominous roll of thunder warned her that she must act quickly ifshe wished to reach the mainland ahead of the rain. She turned the boat,and began rowing with all her strength. The breeze had quickenednoticeably. As she passed beyond the lee of the point, waves struck thebow of the skiff with great force.
"Uncle George was wise to make me take the boat," she told herselfgrimly. "I'd hate to be out in a canoe in these waves."
She thought of Anne and glanced anxiously toward the far landing. The redcanoe had turned back toward Stewart Island. Apparently, Anne realizedthe danger and she too was trying to race the storm. Her paddle slashedinto the water with vicious force, but she made slow progress.
It was only a matter of minutes now until the storm would break. Madgecringed as a vivid flash of lightning zigzagged across the sky toilluminate an ugly mass of dark clouds. She was more afraid for Anne thanfor herself. She knew that the skiff would carry her safely ashore butthe Fairaday girl was far from expert in handling her canoe and when thewind strengthened, she could easily be thrown crosswise to a wave andupset.
Each pull of the oars carried Madge nearer the girl. Already she couldsee that Anne was in grave danger. The waves were buffeting the canoeabout like a log in a whirlpool.
Looking ahead toward the shoreline, Madge saw a sheet of white mist droplike a curtain upon the water. The rain was coming!
The murmur of the wind in the trees along the far shore had increased toan angry whine and branches began to bend and thrash wildly about. Madgebraced herself for what she knew must come.
Another flash of lightning brightened the sky and at the same instant adeluge of rain descended, blotting out the shore. Madge workeddesperately to keep the skiff from being swamped by the huge waves whichwere churned up. The wind howled in her ears, the rain slashed at herface. For several minutes she lost sight of the red canoe.
Then as the first onslaught of the storm seemed to have spent itself, thewind dropped and the rain fell in a steady downpour. Madge peeredanxiously ahead, searching for Anne.
She sighted the canoe less than twenty yards away. Relief gave way tofear as she realized that Anne was struggling frantically to hold herown. Each time the canoe fell into a trough of a wave, Madge expected tosee it dive for the bottom of the lake.
"Hold on! I'm coming!" she shouted encouragingly although she knew hervoice could not carry half the distance.
Anne turned her head and at that very moment a huge wave descended uponher, catching her unaware. She made a valiant effort to maintain control,but failed. The mischievous wave lifted the canoe high, then tumbled itover on its side!
Madge heard a shrill cry of terror which was abruptly smothered out. Thecanoe floated free but Anne was not clinging to its side. She haddisappeared.