The Missing Formula

  CHAPTER III A Puzzling Letter

  Although the sky had cleared, evening shadows were creeping over thelake. Madge rowed steadily, knowing that soon it would be dark. Shewondered if her long absence from home had caused worry and was notgreatly surprised when she sighted another boat on the lake.

  "It's Uncle George and Old Bill," she decided. "They're out looking forme."

  She waved her hand to assure them she was quite safe and in a fewminutes, Old Bill, with a skillful sweep of the oars, brought the boatalongside the skiff.

  "It's time you're getting back, young lady!" Mr. Brady called out withkindly gruffness. "Another ten minutes and we'd have been dragging thelake."

  "Sorry," Madge laughed. "I thought you had more confidence in my abilityto handle a boat."

  "If you give me another scare like this, I'll wish I'd never brought youup here."

  Madge did not take Mr. Brady's brusque manner seriously for she knew thatit masked a kindly heart. He really had worried about her and blamedhimself for permitting her to start out ahead of the storm.

  "I told Mr. Brady you knowed how to look arfter yourself," Old Bill brokein, his leathery face wrinkling into a multitude of tiny folds. "I knowedthis storm would pass over quick--seen a lot of 'em in my day, I have. Ikin remember when I was workin' on the Great Lakes--"

  "Never mind!" Mr. Brady interrupted. "Tell us another time!"

  "Yes, sir." The old boatman subsided into injured silence.

  Old Bill loved to spin yarns--that was his particular failing. He was aninaccurate encyclopaedia of everything that went on, but only Madge, whothought him amusing, ever cared to listen.

  He could relate the most fantastic tales of his adventures at Hudson Bayand various lumber camps. He had served as sailor on the Great Lakes andas guide to aspiring amateur fishermen who invaded Ontario, yet his realexperiences were as nothing compared to those of his fertile imagination.His shack back of the Brady lodge was cluttered with melodramaticmagazines which he read by the hour. He did as little work as possibleabout the lodge, yet if a task struck his fancy, glorified it until itbecame a task of gigantic importance.

  "Your Aunt has been worrying," Mr. Brady told Madge. "What kept you solong?"

  Madge explained that among other things she had jumped into the lake andwound up the tale of her adventure by mentioning the overturned canoewhich had not been recovered.

  "You go on home," Mr. Brady directed. "Bill and I will see if we can pickit up."

  Before continuing toward the lodge, Madge pointed out the generallocality where she thought the canoe might be found. When she pulled upto the boat landing a few minutes later, Mrs. Brady, who had beenanxiously watching from the veranda, rushed down to meet her.

  "I'm glad you're safe!" she exclaimed in relief. "I was so worried whenthe storm came up so quickly. Why, you've changed your dress! Whathappened and where is Anne?"

  Madge repeated the story of her adventure, explaining that Anne did notwish to leave the island. After a slight hesitation, she related all thatshe had learned concerning the strange formula of Mr. Fairaday's. Mrs.Brady was astonished to hear that his fortunes had dwindled, but toMadge's disappointment she did not appear greatly impressed with thestory of the formula.

  "It sounds like one of Bill's yarns to me," she laughed. "Whoever heardof a chemical preparation to keep things from rusting? If you find theformula, Madge, I want you to fix me up a solution for the kitchen pump!And for that rake your uncle left out in the rain!"

  "It does sound fantastic, I admit, but somehow, I think there's somethingto the story. I do know that scientists have been trying for years tofind a paint that will prevent rust. Why, it would mean a fortune to theperson who discovered the secret."

  "I don't doubt it," Mrs. Brady returned mildly. "I had no intention oftrying to discourage you. By all means help Anne look for the missingpaper or whatever it is, but don't build your hopes too high. It's verylikely the formula never existed save in old Mr. Fairaday's mind. I'veheard it said that he was a queer man."

  Madge dropped the subject but that was not the last of it. When Mr. Bradyand Old Bill returned a half hour later with Anne's canoe in tow, Mrs.Brady repeated the story for their benefit and at the supper table Madgewas subjected to a great deal of goodnatured teasing.

  "Just wait!" she retorted. "Anne and I may show you a thing or two aboutformulas! If we find it, the laugh will be on you!"

  She fully intended to return to Stewart Island the following day, butwhen she awoke the next morning it was to find that a drizzling rain hadset in. Everyone stayed close in except Old Bill who was forced to driveto town for supplies and mail. The roads were muddy and he did not getback until after dark.

  "Any letters?" Madge demanded eagerly.

  "Not for you," he told her crossly, pitching a heavy sack of flour fromhis shoulder to the kitchen floor with such violence that it sent up awhite cloud of dust.

  "There's some pie in the oven," Madge said sweetly. "I know you must behungry and tired." Her eye had fastened upon a slim, white envelopeprotruding from his hip pocket. "You do have a letter!"

  "It ain't fer you, I said." Bill spoke more pleasantly for the mention ofpie had softened his ill temper. He took the letter from his pocket andholding it to the light, squinted curiously at the postmark. "It's forthat gal, Anne Fairaday. The postmaster told me to give it to her. Looksimportant too, comin' from New York."

  "Bill Ramey!" Mrs. Brady interposed. "You're worse than a rural mailcarrier when it comes to curiosity! Put that letter on the shelf. Madgecan take it over to the island tomorrow."

  "Yes ma'am."

  Bill's reply was sufficiently meek but his face showed plainly that hedid not like the order. He had always carried supplies and mail in personto Stewart Island or had left it in a covered box at the main landingacross the lake from the Brady lodge. In previous summers, the Fairadayshad tipped him well for the service.

  After eating the supper Madge prepared for him, he shuffled out,permitting the kitchen door to slam behind him.

  "He's peeved," Madge chuckled. "Poor Bill! His feelings are always beinghurt."

  The next morning dawned bright. Shortly after breakfast, Madge set outfor Stewart Island, towing Anne's canoe behind the skiff. She hadlaundered the dress which had been loaned her and carried it neatly doneup in paper. She would have forgotten the letter had Mrs. Brady nothurried down to the beach with it just as she was starting off.

  The lake was smooth and Madge made good time over to the island. Anne hadsighted her from afar and was at the water's edge to meet her.

  "Oh, you found my canoe!" she cried. "What luck! But you shouldn't haveironed that dress. It was only an old one."

  "Here's something more for you," Madge declared, producing the letter."Bill brought it from town last night."

  "Oh, thanks. Mind if I read it now?"

  "Of course not."

  Madge busied herself with the skiff while her friend eagerly ripped openthe long white envelope. Scarcely had her eyes swept the page when sheuttered an exclamation of surprise.

  "Madge, do you remember the young man who worked here on the island abouta year ago? I mean Father's laboratory assistant."

  "That queer fellow with the stoop shoulders?"

  "I think he got that way from spending so much time bending over testtubes," Anne smiled. "I never liked him very well and was glad whenFather discharged him."

  "I never saw him except at a distance," Madge said, "and I've evenforgotten his name. What about him anyway?"

  "His name is Clyde Wendell," Anne supplied. "This letter is from him. Hesays he's coming here to see me on important business. Now what can thatmean?"

  "Doesn't he give a hint as to what the business is about?"

  "Not the slightest. Here, read the letter for yourself."

  Madge accepted the typewritten sheet and after scanning it briefly,returned it without comment.

  "Clyde Wendell
knew more about Father's work than any other person," Annedeclared eagerly. "Perhaps he can tell me what became of the formula."

  "But wasn't it hidden after he left?"

  "I'm not sure. Father worked on it when Clyde was here. Then theydisagreed. Father thought Clyde wasn't honest and finally dischargedhim."

  "Why do you think Clyde would know where it is then?"

  "He was always interested in the formula, Madge. And he knew Father'shabits even better than I did. He could always recall what became of hismisplaced things."

  "Strange he'd be coming back just at this time," Madge mused. "Especiallysince he was discharged."

  "Yes, Clyde was bitter toward Father at the time although he was paidseveral month's extra wages. He seemed friendly toward me though and he'slikely forgotten all the unpleasantness by this time."

  Madge did not wish to discourage her friend yet she found it difficult tobelieve Clyde Wendell would go far out of his way to be of service.

  "Better not pin too much hope on him," she cautioned. "If we get busy wemay be able to find that formula ourselves."

  "I've given the house a general overhauling but we can search again.Shall we do it today?"

  "Let's!" Madge agreed eagerly. "If only you had a hint as to what becameof the thing! I suppose you've exhausted every possibility."

  "I'm afraid so," Anne admitted. She hesitated and then added: "Butthere's one clue I've neglected and it may be important."

  "What's that?"

  Anne smiled mysteriously, and linking arms with Madge, drew her towardthe house.