CHAPTER XXI--THE CAPTURE OF THE BUTTERFLY
Harry Townsend was not aware of the chain of suspicion that wastightening around him; but he was too clever not to use everyprecaution. Once or twice he had come across the small, dark detectivewho was making investigations in Mrs. Erwin's house--the large, blondman, named Burton, had kept in the background--but knowing that theservants had been under suspicion, he supposed that the search was beingmade on their account. He knew of no act of his own that could possiblyimplicate him in the robberies. He came and went among Mrs. Erwin'sguests, and was on a friendly footing with their most fashionablefriends at Newport. He had seen no one else during his visit, as thewhole world was privileged to know.
The only act that the detective, Rowley, was able to report to hissuperior was that Mr. Townsend mailed his own letters. In Mrs. Erwin'shousehold it was the custom of her guests to place all their mail in abag, which the butler sent to the postoffice at regular hours; but Mr.Townsend preferred to mail his own letters. This act occasioned nocomment. Other guests, writing important business letters, had done thesame thing.
"And Townsend has mailed only letters," continued Rowley in making hisreport. "Not a single package, even of the smallest size, has gone outthrough the postoffice. The jewels are still in Newport."
Mr. Townsend had already begun to discuss with his hostess thepossibility of his soon having to leave her charming home. "I havepresumed on your hospitality too long," he said to Mrs. Erwin, severaltimes. "When the famous Casino ball is over I must be getting back toNew York."
To Gladys he explained: "My dear Gladys, my holiday time must end someday. I shall be able to see you often when you go back to Kingsbridge. Iam going into a broker's office as soon as I get back to New York. Ihave been loafing around in Europe for the last two years, but I havedecided that, even if a fellow has money enough to make him fairlycomfortable, work is the thing for the true American!"
To-day Harry Townsend walked to the post-office alone. He carried threeletters. One of them was to a steamship company engaging passage toNaples for "John Brown." The steamer was due to sail the followingWednesday. The other two letters had New York addresses. When theyarrived at their first destination, they were to be remailed to otheraddresses. A tall, blond man, who happened to be lounging in thepostoffice at the time Mr. Townsend entered it, observed that the younggentleman was anxious to know when the letters would be delivered in thecity.
The letters posted, Townsend walked over to the Casino courts, where Baband Ruth were playing tennis. He had promised Gladys to join her there.He still had some investigations he desired to make. But he walkedslowly. Clever fingers must be directed by a clever brain, whether theirwork be good or evil. No matter how well he knew he could depend on hiswonderful fingers to do their share of the work, the "boy Raffles"always thought out carefully the plan of his theft before he tried toexecute it.
On Monday night, at the Casino tournament ball, he planned to make hisfinal theft. This accomplished, he could leave Newport feeling he hadreaped a rich harvest, even in the summer season, when harvests are notsupposed to be gathered.
Harry Townsend, alias half a dozen other names, had seen the jewel hemost coveted for his final effort. It was a diamond tiara belonging toone of the richest and most prominent women in Newport. His schemes werecarefully laid. He was waiting for Monday night.
At about three o'clock, on this same Saturday afternoon, Mrs. Post andthe Countess Bertouche stopped in a small automobile for Grace andMollie. They had no one with them except the chauffeur.
It took them some time to drive through the old town of Newport. Theladies descended at the old Trinity church, to investigate it, and thegirls were much interested in the ancient jail. There, they were told,was once kept a woman prisoner who complained because she had no lock onher door.
Mollie and Grace were not ardent sightseers. It was really the thoughtof the haunted house that had brought them on their pilgrimage. But Mrs.Post and the countess insisted on poking their way down the Long Wharf,with its rows of sailors' houses and junk shops. Both girls weredreadfully bored, and secretly longed to be on the tennis courts withBab and Ruth. Yet the thought of the haunted house buoyed them up.
Mrs. Post was a collector. If you have ever traveled with one, you willunderstand that it means hours and hours of looking through dirt andtrash in order to run across one treasure that a collector regards as"an antique."
Even when Mrs. Post was through with her search she decided that it wasnot yet sufficiently late for them to visit the haunted house. "I toldthe caretaker not to meet us there until a quarter of seven. We shallwant only a few minutes to go through the old place; but, of course, wemust see it under conditions as romantic as possible." Mrs. Post thenordered the chauffeur to take them for a drive before driving them tothe haunted house.
Mollie and Grace were unusually quiet, so they noticed that the CountessBertouche had little to say during the afternoon. She seemed tired andnervous. When Mrs. Post asked her questions about her life abroad, aftershe married, the countess replied in as few words as possible.
At exactly the appointed time the automobile delivered its passengersbefore the door of the house they sought. It was an old, gray,Revolutionary mansion, three stories high, with a sloping roof and smallwindows with diamond-latticed panes. It was quite dark when the girlsentered the ghostly mansion, following Mrs. Post and the countess, whowere led by a one-eyed old caretaker carrying a smoky lamp. There wasjust enough daylight shining through the windows to see one's way about,but the corners of the vast old house were full of terrifying shadows.
"Let us not stay too long, Mrs. Post," urged the countess. "I am notfond of ghosts, and I am tired." But Mrs. Post was the kind ofsight-seer who goes on to the end, no matter who lags behind. She ledthe party up the winding steps, peering into each room as they wentalong. The house was kept furnished with a few rickety pieces of oldfurniture.
When they reached the second floor, the caretaker announced that themiddle bedroom was the sleeping apartment of the haunted lady. Thelittle party searched it curiously. There was no sign of the ghostlyinhabitant; no perfume of mignonette.
"I don't see anything unusual about this room," said the countess,suppressing a sigh, "except that it has the most comfortable chair inthe house. I shall sit here and rest while you take the two girls overthe other part of the building."
The three left her. The woman dropped into a chair, and a worn, nervouslook crossed her face.
As Mollie ascended the attic stairs behind Grace she called out, "If youwill excuse me, Mrs. Post, I shall go down and join the countess."
An imp of mischief had entered Mollie. Wrapped up in her handkerchief,carefully concealed in her purse bag, was a handful of mignonette, whichshe had gathered from Mrs. Ewing's garden only that morning. Molliemeant to impersonate the "spirit lady." Suddenly she had decided thatthe countess was the best one upon whom she could try her joke.
Creeping down the stairs as quietly as a mouse, Mollie stole into theback room, adjoining the one where the countess sat. Had she looked in,she would hardly have played her naughty trick. The woman who sat therewas a very different person from the gay society lady they had beenmeeting everywhere in the last few weeks. This woman looked weary andfrightened. But Mollie was thinking only of mischief.
Silently she took the mignonette out of her bag and crushed it in herhand. There was a sudden fragrance all about her. Then she slipped herhand slyly through the open doorway and dropped her bunch of mignonetteinto the room where the countess was sitting. There was no response. Thecountess had not detected the odor of the flowers and Mollie was deeplydisappointed.
Faintly, however, the countess began to be aware of the fragrance of asubtle perfume; but she was thinking too deeply of other things to beconscious of what it was. Besides, the growing darkness was making hernervous.
Mollie gave up in despair. Her effort with the mignonette had plainlyproved a failure. The countess refused to be frig
htened by thesuggestion of the ghost.
"Countess!" said Mollie, appearing suddenly in the open doorway. Shecertainly expected no result from this simple action; but the countess,who thought she was entirely alone, was dreadfully startled. She rose,with a short scream of surprise, and started forward. Her foot catchingin a worn old rug, she stumbled. Mollie was by her side in a second,trying to help her to rise.
"I am so sorry to have frightened you!" the child said penitently. "Waita minute, you have dropped something." Mollie picked up a square chamoisskin bag. In her excitement and embarrassment she caught hold of thewrong end of it. Out of it tumbled a purse, and--Mollie saw it as plainlyas could be, though it was nearly dark in the room--Mrs. Cartwright'sdiamond butterfly!
"Child!" said the countess, angrily. "See what your nonsense has done!This is the bag that I wear under my dress to carry my money and jewels.It is always securely fastened. I suppose, falling as I did, I must havebroken the catch." She picked up the things quickly and thrust them intoher bag. It was so dark in the room she supposed Mollie had not seenthem. Then, holding the bag tightly in her hand, she went on downstairs,Mollie after her, and joined Grace and Mrs. Post, who had preceded themto the automobile.
"Well, did anyone see the ghost?" asked Mrs. Post. "You, Mollie, mychild, look as if you had seen something."
"Oh, no," denied Mollie; "but I am afraid I frightened the countess. Ithrew some mignonette in the room, trying to make her think I was theghost, but she didn't notice it. Then, when I spoke to her to tell herit was time to come downstairs, she was dreadfully startled."
Mrs. Post ordered the chauffeur to drive home first, as she and thecountess had a dinner engagement; the two girls being later taken toMrs. Ewing's.
The two women had barely left the car before Mollie put her lips nearGrace's ear and whispered: "Grace Carter, the Countess Bertouche hasstolen Mrs. Cartwright's butterfly! I saw it with my own eyes. Shedropped it out of a bag on the floor, when she fell down."
"Goose!" smiled Grace. "What are you talking about? Don't you suppose acountess may have a jeweled butterfly of her own?"
"Not like that one," retorted Mollie, firmly. "I would know it among athousand. You needn't believe me, but it's as true as that my name isMollie Thurston. I am going to tell Ruth and Bab, as soon as I get home.I know they will believe me."
"I do believe you, only I am so dumfounded I can't take it in," saidGrace.
"What on earth is the matter with you, Mollie?" asked Bab of her sister,as soon as they had finished dinner. "You look awfully excited."
"Bab," whispered Mollie, "call Ruth and Grace right away. Don't letanyone else come. Let's go down to the end of the garden. I havesomething I must tell you, this minute!"
Grace had already found Ruth, and the two came hurrying along. "No,Ralph," ordered Grace, "you can't come. This is strictly a girl'sparty."
"Bab," began Mollie, "you will believe me, won't you? I do know what Iam talking about. This afternoon I saw the Countess Bertouche with Mrs.Cartwright's diamond butterfly. She dropped it, right before my eyes,out of the same kind of bag that Miss Sallie uses to keep her jewelryin. What can it mean?"
"Ruth!" gasped Bab. "Bab!" uttered Ruth.
The two girls looked at each other in silence. Then Bab exclaimed: "Ittook my Mollie to make the discovery, after all!"
"What are you talking about, Barbara Thurston? What discovery have Imade?" demanded Mollie.
"Ruth, do you think I had better tell the girls?" asked Bab.
Ruth nodded, and Barbara related the principal facts of the jewelrobbery. She also told the girls that she and Ruth suspected that HarryTownsend had been the robber who frightened them at New Haven. "Youremember," Bab continued, "he was a guest at the hotel the same night wewere, and left early the next morning. If he had one of the rooms underus, he could have climbed down the fire escape and into his own roombefore anyone could discover him."
But Bab kept to herself that she and Ruth were expecting anotherburglary, and that she, Bab, was to play a part in bringing the thief tobay. Mollie and Grace would both be terribly frightened at the thought,but it was just as well that they knew enough not to be surprised atwhat was to follow.
Barbara went upstairs and wrote a note to the address in Newport thatthe detectives had given to her. It told the story just recited byMollie.
"Ralph," requested Barbara, sauntering slowly through the hall, "willyou mail this at once with your own hands? Little Mollie has done thedeed, after all. She has found the woman who receives Harry Townsend'sstolen goods!"
Ralph took the letter with an exclamation of surprise and hurried off tothe post.