Chapter XI
GRETCHEN
Dorothy awoke from troubled dreams to find that it was another day.Through the open window she saw the swirl of snowflakes driven in a highwind. The bedroom was cold and in the grey light of the winter morningit had lost its cheerful air.
She heard a knock on the door.
"Who's there?" she called drowsily.
"It's the maid, miss. Mrs. Lawson thought you might be wanting yourbreakfast now."
Dorothy looked at her wrist watch. The hands marked ten-thirty. Shejumped out on the rug, which felt cold and clammy under her bare feet,went to the door and unlocked it. Then she scampered back to bed andsnuggled under the warm covers.
In walked a trim little figure wearing the small white apron and grayuniform of a chambermaid. Dorothy saw a round merry face, and a pair ofbig blue eyes beneath the white lawn cap, and thick flaxen braids werecoiled round the neat head. She was surprised and somehow pleased todiscover that this attractive member of the household staff could not bemuch more than sixteen, just her own age.
The little maid shut the door softly, crossed to the window and closedit, turned on the steam heat and came to the bedside. "Good morning,Miss Jordan." She smiled engagingly. "I'm Gretchen, miss. Will you haveyour breakfast in bed?"
"Why, thank you, Gretchen--that will be cozy. But if it's going to giveyou any trouble, don't bother." With the covers drawn up to her eyes,Dorothy smiled back at the girl.
"Oh, no, miss--it's no trouble at all." Gretchen was insistent. "It'sall ready now. I'll run down and bring it up."
She whisked out of the room and Dorothy rolled over for another cat-nap.
"If you'll be good enough to sit up now, Miss Jordan--I have yourbreakfast here."
Dorothy awoke again, yawned and stretched luxuriously. Gretchen stoodbeside her bed with the breakfast tray.
"If you'll be good enough to sit up, miss?" she repeated.
Dorothy punched the pillows into position behind her, slipped thequilted gown about her shoulders and leaned back. Gretchen movednearer--then almost dropped the tray.
"Why--why--miss--"
Dorothy leaned over and steadied the tray. "What's the matter,Gretchen?" The little maid was staring at her open-mouthed, her big blueeyes as round as saucers.
"Oh, I--I beg your pardon, but it's--it's the resemblance, miss--MissJordan." She set the tray over Dorothy's knees and drew back still withthat astonished look. "I couldn't see you very well before, miss, withthe covers up to your eyes. But when you sat up, it sure did give me astart."
"What do you mean, Gretchen? The resemblance to whom?" Dorothy,outwardly calm, fingered her glass of orange juice, but her thoughtsraced toward this new complication.
"Why, you look so much like Dorothy Dixon--the flyer, you know, miss.She's my hero--I mean, heroine, Miss Jordan. I've read everything thenewspapers printed about her and Bill Bolton. You must have read aboutthem too, everybody has?"
"Oh, yes, I've heard about them." Dorothy hoped her tone soundedindifferent. "But you know, Gretchen, newspaper pictures are often verypoor likenesses."
The girl smiled and nodded. "I know that, Miss Jordan. I've got them alland there isn't no two of the pictures that looks alike."
"Then how--?"
"You see, it wasn't the newspaper pictures I was thinking of, miss, butDorothy Dixon herself. You see I know Miss Dixon," she went on proudly,"and you two are certainly the spittin' images of each other, if youdon't mind my saying so."
Dorothy minded very much, but it was not consistent with the part shewas playing to admit it. Here was a contretemps not even Ashton Sanbornhad foreseen. Yet, of course, New Canaan was only ten miles away. Shehad many friends in Ridgefield, and she'd been there hundreds of times.But she simply couldn't remember having seen Gretchen in any of theirhomes. Her answer was but a feeble stall for time.
"So you know her then?" she said lamely.
"Oh, yes, miss. Not well, you understand. I saw her and Mr. Bill Boltonfirst when they finished the endurance test on the Conway motor thisfall. Then a few days later, I drove over to her house in ourflivver--over to New Canaan, you know, and I called on Miss Dixon. Iwanted her to autograph a picture of herself I'd cut out of the Sundaypaper."
"And you met her?" Dorothy remembered the incident perfectly now. Butthe maid's uniform--and her hair--when she had seen her, Gretchen hadworn two braids over her shoulders, very much the schoolgirl. No wondershe hadn't recognized her. But now what should she do? Would it bepossible to keep up this camouflage with a girl whom she had met andwith whom she would come in daily contact? Gretchen was talking again.
"Yes indeed, I met her. And she was just darling to me, Miss Jordan. Sheeven gave me one of her own photographs and wrote on it, too. You see,us Schmidts came over from Germany about a hundred years ago, but we'rehonest-to-goodness Americans just the same. Father was in the Americanarmy during the war. He was an aviation mechanic. He found one of themIron Crosses of the Germans on some battlefield in France and kept itfor a mascot. And would you believe it, miss, Father never even gotwounded once, the whole time he was over there! Perhaps it was thelittle Iron Cross, and perhaps it wasn't. Anyway, he thought a lot ofhis mascot. When I was ten years old, he had it fixed on a thin goldchain for me to wear around my neck, and gave it to me on my birthday.Well, when I went to see Miss Dixon this fall, I took it with me. Shegoes up in her airplane so much and does so many other exciting things,I wanted her to have it. She didn't want to take the cross at first, butI persuaded her to, just the same. And you don't know how nice she wasto me, Miss! Took me out to see Will-o-the-Wisp--that's her plane, youknow--she calls it Wispy for short. And I had a perfectly grand time.She's my heroine, all right. And you, miss--I hope you'll excuse me fortalking so much about it--but you look exactly like her, and your voicesare just the same, too. It's wonderful!"
"So you are Margaret Schmidt," Dorothy said slowly.
"Yes, miss, that is so, though everybody calls me Gretchen. How did youknow my given name, Miss Jordan? Is Miss Dixon a friend of yours? Didshe tell you about me? But that's silly--she wouldn't remember me."
Dorothy looked the little maid straight in the eyes. "She remembers you,Gretchen. Would you be willing to do something for her--to keep asecret, a very important and maybe a dangerous one? Do you think youcould do it?"
Gretchen looked awestruck, then she smiled. "Mother says I'm theclosest-mouthed girl she ever saw, miss. They could cut me in piecesbefore I ever let out any secret of Dorothy Dixon's. I'd never tell--notme! You can trust me, Miss Jordan."
"I'm sure I can, Gretchen. And I'm going to." Dorothy slipped her handinto the V-neck of her pajamas. "Remember this?"
"Why--it's--it's my Iron Cross--that I gave Dorothy Dixon. How in theworld--?"
"I am Dorothy Dixon." Dorothy broke into laughter at the bewilderedexpression on the girl's face.
"But--but I don't understand!" Gretchen stammered as though her tonguewas half-paralyzed. "I knew the resemblance was wonderful--but--theysaid you were Miss Janet Jordan--and--"
"You sit down on the end of the bed," said Dorothy, "I'll go on with mybreakfast before it gets cold, and explain at the same time. We won't bedisturbed, will we?"
"Oh, no, miss."
"How about your work, Gretchen? Will you be wanted downstairs?"
"Mr. Tunbridge told me to unpack your trunk, miss--Miss Dixon--and tomake myself generally useful."
"Fine," smiled Dorothy, pouring out a cup of coffee. "But keep oncalling me Miss Jordan--otherwise you'll be making slips in the name infront of other people and that would be fatal."
"Yes, Miss Jordan," Gretchen grinned happily.
"After this beastly business is over," Dorothy went on, "we'll beGretchen and Dorothy to each other."
The other girl looked a trifle embarrassed. "But I'm only a chambermaid,Miss Jordan," she said shyly.
"Don't be silly!" Dorothy waved away the argument with
a sweep of herspoon. "You're proving yourself a real friend--and that's that."
"Very well, Miss Jordan."
"Now pin back your ears, Gretchen." Dorothy lifted the cover from herscrambled eggs. "I am taking my cousin, Janet Jordan's place as Mrs.Lawson's secretary. Nobody in this house knows who I am except Mr.Tunbridge, nor must they be given the slightest hint that I am anybodybut Janet Jordan. As you've probably guessed, Janet and I look almostexactly alike. Our mothers were twins and that probably accounts forit."
"Gee--" breathed Gretchen. "It's just like a story in a book!"
Dorothy bit into a slice of buttered toast. "Maybe it is," she admitted,speaking with her mouth full. "But the point is that you and I areliving this story and it may come to a very abrupt and unpleasant endingunless we're both terribly careful. Let's see--where was I? Oh, yes. Mr.Tunbridge and I are working together on this case, working for theUnited States Government."
"Secret Service?" asked Gretchen in an awed whisper.
"Yes."
"Then I'll be working for the secret service too?" Dorothy could seethat the girl was very much impressed with the idea.
"You will, Gretchen--that is, you are--under me. But don't get toopepped up about it. The work we are on is serious and it is extremelydangerous into the bargain. I wouldn't have brought you into it unless Ihad to. Right now I haven't the slightest notion how you are going to befitted into the picture. But I couldn't have you going around, talkingabout how much Janet Jordan looks like Dorothy Dixon, could I? DoctorWinn and the Lawsons have no idea of either the resemblance or therelationship. If that came out and they got wind of it--well, there's notelling what might happen."
"Especially," chimed in Gretchen, "after all the detective work you didin those three big cases over to New Canaan this summer and fall."
"You've got it," declared Dorothy, and sipped her coffee. "A robbery isbeing planned here, Gretchen, a robbery of some very valuable papersfrom Doctor Winn's safe. The thieves will probably try to pull it offtonight. These papers, which have to do with an invention of theDoctor's are worth a million dollars or more to any number of people. Soyou see the thieves are playing for big stakes, and I might as well tellyou that they aren't the kind that would let a thing like murder stopthem. And now that you know the facts, are you willing to go on withit?"
Gretchen seemed horrified that Dorothy should doubt her. "Oh, MissJordan, I don't want to get murdered any more than anybody else--but,I'm not afraid--honest I'm not!"
"I knew you were true blue," smiled Dorothy. "So we'll call it a deal,shall we?"
"You bet!" The two girls solemnly shook hands. "What do you want me todo first, Miss Jordan?" Gretchen asked eagerly.
"Move this tray onto the chair over there, please. Then while I'm takinga bath and dressing you might unpack Janet Jordan's clothes. I'll choosesomething to wear later."
"Very good, Miss Jordan." The little maid took the tray, then stoppedshort, her round blue eyes very serious. "But what about the secretservice work?"
"Just carry on as usual for the present." Dorothy slipped out of bed."And remember--not a word to anyone about what I've told you--not evenMr. Tunbridge. I don't know myself exactly what I'm to do yet. Mrs.Lawson expects me downstairs in about half an hour, so I've got tohustle. If I need your help later on, I'll get word to you somehow."
"I hope you will need me, Miss Jordan." Gretchen was taking Janet'sfrocks from the wardrobe trunk.
"And I hope I shan't!" said Dorothy, and she disappeared into thebathroom.