CHAPTER IV.
STUDYING THE MYSTERY.
Is there any wonder that Marion Stanlock, after reading letter No. 2was seriously in doubt as to whether No. 1 was from the Scouts who hadpromised another surprise for the Camp Fire Girls in the near future?Judge for yourself--here is No. 1:
Something Doing Soon Look Out SOMETHING DOING SOON LOOK OUT =SOMETHING DOING SOON LOOK OUT!=
That was all. The second letter read thus:
"Miss Stanlock: This is to serve you with warning not to take yourfriends with you to Hollyhill this vacation to work among the poorfamilies of the striking miners. We know that move of yours isinspired by the rankest hypocrisy, that you have no genuine desire todo anything for our starving families. This move of yours, we know,was planned by that villainous father of yours to cloud the big issueof our fight. If you do carry out your plans, some of you are liableto get hurt, and it need not surprise anybody if some of you never getback to Westmoreland alive.
Go Slow! Be Careful! Look Out!"
Marion was not easily panic-stricken, but it is of the nature of atruism to say that this letter applied the severest test to hernerves. That the writer was in deep earnest she had no reason todoubt. She had read of so many crimes preceded by threatening lettersof this sort that the suggestion did not come to her to regard thisone lightly. Although there was no common basis for comparing thehandwriting of the two missives, one being lettered in Roman capitalsand the other in ordinary script, nevertheless she quickly dismissedthe first suspicion that letter No. 1 was written by Clifford Long orsome other Scout of Spring Lake academy. Both ended with the words"Look Out." Plainly this was a result of carelessness on the part ofthe writer. Evidently he had planned to cause her to believe that thetwo letters were written by different persons, for he had taken thepains of differentiating the superscriptions on the envelopes as wellas the contents within.
But now the question was, What should she do? It was no more than fairand just for her to inform the girls what they might expect if theyattempted to carry out their original plan, but what method should shepursue to convey to them this information? She might go at the matterbluntly and create something of a panic; then again she might sohandle it that the best possible result could be obtained in a quietand orderly manner.
Marion felt in this crisis that a great responsibility rested on herto handle the problem with all the skill and intelligence at hercommand. She longed for the counsel of an older and more experiencedhead, but there was none present, except Miss Ladd, the Guardian ofthe Fire, to whom she might go with her story. The latter, though shecame well within the requirements of the national board to fill theposition which she held, was nevertheless a young woman in thesensitive sense of the phrase and could hardly be expected to give thebest of executive advice under the circumstances. Marion realized thatit was her duty to exhibit to Miss Ladd the letters she had received,but if she did this at once, the act would amount to turning the wholematter over to her and relinquishing the initiative herself, shereasoned.
Marion was naturally aggressive, and she was not favorably impressedwith the idea of leaving the affair in the hands of another unlessthat person were peculiarly fitted to handle it. As she sat studyingover the problem she suddenly became conscious of the presence ofanother person close beside her, and looking up she saw Helen Nash,with an expression of startled intelligence in her eyes. Apparentlyher attention had been attracted by the crude drawing of a skull andcross-bones at the close of the letter lying open in her lap.
"I beg your pardon, Marion," said Helen with an evident effort atself-control. "I didn't mean to intrude. I hope you'll forgive me forsomething quite unintentional."
"Certainly, Helen," Marion replied generously, "and since a chancelook has informed you of the nature of these letters and I want totalk this affair over with somebody, I think I may as well talk itover with you. Let's go down to the other end of the car where wearen't likely to be disturbed."
Accordingly they moved up to the front of the car where they tookpossession of two chairs and soon were so deeply absorbed in theproblem at hand as to excite the wonder and curiosity of the otherCamp Fire Girls.
Marion handed the two anonymous letters to her friend withoutintroductory remark, and the latter read them. As Marion watched theexpression on the reader's face, she was forced to admit to herselfthat right then, under those seemingly impersonal circumstances,Helen's habitual strangeness of manner was more pronounced than shehad ever before known it to be. This girl of impenetrable secrecy readthe letters, seemingly with an abstraction amounting almost toinattention, while physically she appeared to shrink from somethingthat to her alone was visible and real.
As she finished reading, Helen looked up at her friend and the gaze ofpenetrating curiosity that she saw in Marion's eyes caused her toblush with confusion. Unable to meet her friend's gaze steadily, sheshifted her eyes toward the most uninteresting part of the car, thefloor, and said:
"That looks like a dangerous letter. It ought to be turned over to thepolice as soon as possible."
"Both of them, don't you think?" Marion inquired.
"Why? I don't see anything in this shorter one. My guess would be thatit was written by your cousin or one of his friends."
"But do you notice the way they both end?--the same words," Marioninsisted.
"Yes, I noticed that," Helen replied slowly. But that is such acommon, ordinary expression, almost like 'a,' 'an,' or 'the,' that itdoesn't mean much to me here. Where are the letters postmarked?"
"Both in Westmoreland."
"That's something in favor of your suspicion that both letters werewritten by the same person," Helen admitted. "Still it doesn'tconvince me. You wouldn't expect the Spring Lake boys to mail a letterlike the shorter one at Spring Lake, would you? That would stamp itsidentity right away."
"You are sure those letters were written by different persons?" Marioninquired curiously.
"I don't think it makes any difference whether they were or not,"Helen answered more decisively than she had spoken before. "It is inthat skull-and-cross-bones letter that you are most interested. Ithink you can disregard the other entirely. I would say this,however, that if both were written by one person, you have less tofear than if the shorter one was written by your cousin or one of hisfriends."
"Why?"
"Because if one person wrote both of them, he is probably sufferingfrom softening of the brain. But if the person who wrote the longerone did not write the shorter one, there is more likelihood that hemeans business and will attempt to carry out his threat."
"I never realized that you were such a Sherlock Holmes," Marionexclaimed enthusiastically, while the suggestion came to her thatperhaps a genius for this sort of thing accounted for her friend'speculiarities. "You ought to be a detective for a department store tocatch shoplifters."
"Thanks, Marion, for the compliment, but I am not inclined that way.I'd rather do something in this case to keep our vacation plans fromending in trouble."
"I was looking for someone who could advise me," Marion said; "and Iam now convinced that you are just the person I was looking for. Whatdo you think I ought to do, Helen?"
"All the girls ought to know about this letter," Helen replied. "Butyou can't go to them and blurt out anything so sensational. We mustbreak the news gently, as they say in melodrama. I wish we hadn'tcome."
"So do I," Marion replied, but with just a suggestion ofdisappointment in her voice.
"Not that I am afraid of getting hurt," Helen added hastily, realizingthe suspicion of cowardice that might rest against her. "Still, if myadvice had been asked, I would have argued against this very dangerousvacation scheme of yours."
"Why?" inquired Marion in a tone of disappointment.
"Because of the very situation complained of in thatskull-and-cross-bones letter. I hope I don't hurt your feelings,Marion, but it is very natural for some of these rough miners tosuspect that your plan was coo
ked up by your father to pull the woolover their eyes, and to regard you as a tool employed by him to putthe scheme into operation."
"Some of the girls' parents raised the objection that there might bedanger in a mining district during a strike, but none of themsuggested anything of this sort," Marion remarked with humble anxiety."I explained to them that there could hardly be any danger even if thestrikers should get ugly, as the mines are some distance from where welive and any violence on the part of the miners would surely becommitted at the scene of their labors. This seemed to satisfy them.Most of the miners live at the south end of the town or along theelectric line running from Hollyhill to the mines."
"That doesn't make much difference if the miners once get it intotheir heads that the girls are being used to put over a confidencegame on them," Helen argued authoritatively. "Miners are peculiarpeople, especially if they are lead by radical leaders of aggressivepurpose. They believe that they are a badly misused set, turning outthe wealth of the wealthy, who repay them by holding them in contempt,keeping their wages down to a minimum and pressing them into socialand political subjection."
"Where did you learn all that, Helen?" Marion asked wonderingly. "Youare not even studying sociology at school. You talk like a person ofexperience."
"My father was a miner," Helen began. Then she stopped, and Marion sawfrom the expression in her eyes and the twitch of her mouth that a biglump in her throat had interrupted her explanation. She seemed to bemaking an effort to continue, but was unable to do so.
"Never mind, Helen," said Marion, taking her hand tenderly in her own."I am more convinced than ever that I found just the right person toadvise me when I laid this matter before you. We will try to work thisproblem out together. Meanwhile we must take Miss Ladd into ourconfidence. Why, here she is now."
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