The mystery of the missing eyebrows
detectives wanted a chance to start a well organized search.
Early attempts to hunt Helen had been hindered by the crowd of people
who had collected as soon as the news of her kidnaping had spread.
Scores of foot tracks around the fateful house, all made by the curious
persons, had made it impossible for footprints to furnish a clue.
Cleverly Mr. Horn concocted a story for his wife about Renfro’s going
home with Morrison to do some extra work, early in the morning. When he
told her about it she was very much out of humor and condemned paper
routes in biting language.
“If she only knew the truth,” Mr. Horn thought to himself and trembled.
Some time the next day she would know the truth.
Mary Dugan, dead tired, heard the story and believed it without a
qualm. She was sorry Renfro had to do the extra work. That meant just
one more day for her to feed the turkeys, which he had said belonged to
the church.
Morrison in turn had gone out to the Bruce home, and Bruce, after
hearing the story, had gone straight to the city editor. Together they
mapped out the course they would follow. Their noon edition would
contain a story of the kidnaping--that would be their scoop, and early
in the afternoon they would send more detectives to help the local ones
in the search.
Then Bruce and Morrison departed to their individual homes and went to
bed.
But neither Henry Horn nor Mary Dugan slept much that night. The
detectives had assured Mr. Horn that they would soon find Renfro, that
his kidnaping had given them definite proof that Helen Wier had been
taken by local criminals. They would start an investigation from a new
angle.
In the morning, of course, he would not go to work, just seemingly do
that, so as not to disturb his wife. He would show those kidnapers that
he was not a slow man to deal with like Judge Wier had been. He would
prove to them they couldn’t--
And directly above them Mary Dugan had hunted her Bible, read her
Golden Text for next Sunday and was fumbling with the family pictures.
And then she remembered the missing eyebrows. She opened the book at
page 222, the one next to which she had put them.
And then she fell back with a low cry. The packages were gone. There
was not even one white hair left.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE LIGHTS ARE REVEALED.
Merle Riker carried the names of his six new subscribers to Morrison’s
office only to discover that Morrison was out. Wearily he sat down
into the big chair to wait. He had accomplished what had seemed to him
impossible a few days before. And he wanted Morrison’s approval. And
after that he wanted Renfro Horn’s.
“He taught me how to do it,” Merle had told Jimmie Noel on his way to
the office. “Renfro Horn is a good sport.”
“He’s a good scout,” Jimmie added soberly, “And that reminds me. I
haven’t seen Renfro all day. Let’s go out there tonight and have a talk
with him.”
Merle promised. “My mother doesn’t care for me being out at nights when
I’m with a boy like Renfro Horn,” he explained. “Meet at the corner
drug store?”
Jimmie had agreed to that meeting place. Just as soon as Morrison came,
Merle decided he would rush home, announce to the Riker family they
had a Thanksgiving turkey, eat a hurried supper and come back to the
meeting place and then go to the Horn home.
But Morrison didn’t come. The clock struck six-thirty, seven, and then
Merle rose. He went straight to the corner drug store, met Jimmie, and
took him home with him. So Jimmie heard Merle’s announcement about the
Thanksgiving turkey and witnessed the joy it created. And as soon as
Merle had eaten his supper they started back to the Horn residence.
But there they faced another disappointment. Mary Dugan told them
Renfro wasn’t home, was still out on his route and that they could walk
out to meet him if they wanted to see him.
“She isn’t cross usually,” Jimmie volunteered. “But she’s tired out or
something. Usually it’s as Hooch says, ‘Mary Dugan is the best scout of
them all.’”
Together the two boys walked out toward East Washington Street, but
though they watched every corner and every car they didn’t see Renfro.
“Might as well give it up,” Merle was disappointed, “and go home. I’ll
tell him in the morning.”
“We’re near the Globe office,” Jimmie offered. “We might go past and
stop in to see if Morrison’s back. You’d like to tell him, if he’s
there--wouldn’t you?”
They went to the carrier’s room, found it empty but the door to
Morrison’s was ajar. Jimmie started toward it and stopped, his
attention suddenly riveted by voices he heard. “But his mother must not
know.” It was Mr. Horn talking.
He recognized Bruce answering. Morrison too chimed in. And little by
little Jimmie learned the whole story--of how Renfro had been kidnaped,
of how they were keeping it a secret and of how they hoped in this way
to get a quicker solution of the kidnaping mystery.
Jimmie, when he learned all the particulars, pushed Merle back out onto
the street again. “How much did you hear?” he there demanded.
“Not enough to understand anything except that Renfro has been
kidnaped, too, just like Helen Wier,” Merle was inclined to be gloomy,
“and they were both my friends.”
“And we’re not to tell a word we heard,” Jimmie caught Merle’s arm and
shook him. “Do you understand? Telling this would hurt Renfro. It
would lessen their chances to find him. We’ve got to keep still and--”
“Help find him,” Merle answered, the steel in his eyes shining so that
Jimmie could see it as he never had before.
Jimmie Noel stopped. “Wait,” he commanded, “Wait a minute. I have to
think.”
For fifteen minutes Merle waited. Then Jimmie drew him toward the
corner. “Can you stay out very late?” he asked. “It may be all night. I
have an idea. It may be nothing and again it may reveal to us where and
how Renfro was kidnaped. Can you go out to ‘Twin Cedar Cabin’ with me?
And stay all night?”
Merle nodded. “I’ll call mother. If I tell her we’re going out there to
see Renfro, she’ll be all right,” he explained, “and that is what we
are going to do if he’s there--isn’t it?”
“You bet!” Jimmie’s spirits were soaring, “I’ll telephone, too. And
I’ll tell Jack Burton we’re going. I won’t tell him about Renfro but
I’ll ask him to go along. He has some sense and he may help out some.”
They separated and a little later they met, having deemed it more safe
to use different telephones. “Jack can’t go,” Jimmie explained. “His
brother raised a row against him going and so he has to stay at home.”
On the way out to the camp, Jimmie explained many things to Merle--of
how when the cabin had been purchased and he had heard the story of the
two chiefs who had fought for the hand of the pretty white girl, he
and one of the young scout masters had decided to add to the lure of
the place for all good scouts. They had gone out secretly and dug two
graves, burying two old skeletons which had been in the trash room of
the high school.
“It wasn’t hard to believe those skeletons belonged to Indians,” Jimmie
laughed, “so we named the graves those of Wampum and Big Eagle.”
And then he told about the odd lights which they had seen on the nights
they had been there. “Now I was suspicious,” he added, “and began to
study ways those lights might have been made. And I just discovered the
other day. Someone who wanted to keep anyone away from that cabin could
have placed a number of batteries there and then operate them from
quite a distance. I believe that is just what someone is doing.”
He drew a deep breath. “Every time any of the fellows go out to the
cabin to stay all night they watch for the lights and they are not
disappointed about seeing them either. So it stands to reason that they
are being operated to keep scouts away from that cabin. Now, tonight
we’ll lay for those fellows. I have a hunch we’ll find a fellow who is
connected with Renfro’s kidnaping.”
Merle listened while Jimmie made his plans. They would go to the cabin,
light the lamps, and build a roaring big fire in the fire place. Then
Merle would stay in the cabin while he--Jimmie would go to the graves,
hide near there and watch for some sign of life.
They reached the cabin safely. The lamps were lighted, the fire made,
and then Jimmie slipped out of the cabin. A little later, Merle,
following directions, extinguished the lamps and crept to the window.
He looked down toward the mounds. And soon his watch was rewarded.
Violet and blue lights alternately played over the graves. They left
for a little while and then they came back. For about fifteen minutes
they lingered this time and then they suddenly went dark again.
Merle waited. Minutes passed, and then longer minutes. But the lights
did not come back. Nor did Jimmie. This was a hard wait for Merle. He
began to wonder if anything could have happened to Jimmie. He had been
told before Jimmie left not to dare leave the cabin but just stay there
and watch. Something of unusual importance might happen right there.
And just as he was about to throw Jimmie’s commands to the winds and
leave the cabin to search for him, Jimmie appeared. He was a ruffled,
muddy Jimmie. “Great Scott!” he ejaculated, “I was never so disgusted
in my life. If I hadn’t had that club in my hand and given them a dozen
or more healthy raps I would feel like batting my head in the hope I
could get some more brains into it.”
He went to the fireplace and sat down. “It was just as I thought,” he
said. “Those lights came from electric batteries. Only they belonged
to the high school boys who want this cabin. They tried to get it when
the scouts got it but we had the most money. Jack Burton’s brother
led the gang. Whenever Jack would start out here they would come and
operate their battery system. They thought they would scare us out
pretty soon.”
Merle was quite as disappointed as Jimmie. He came over and sat down
beside him. “I ran into the whole nest of them,” Jimmie continued, “and
I knocked them right and left with my club. I think they thought I was
a score of scouts for they ran--FROM ONE BOY,” he laughed.
Merle laughed with him. “But that doesn’t help us with Renfro,” he
began suddenly.
“No,” Jimmie shook his head, “Poor old Hooch! Wouldn’t he have liked to
be in on this tonight?”
Later they snuggled up in their blankets and went to sleep. And when it
was morning they soberly went back to town, both of them with one great
determination and one secret in their minds. They were going to keep
still about Renfro Horn’s being gone and at the same time they were
going to help hunt him.
“Tonight, I’m going to walk over his route after I carry mine,” Merle
assured Jimmie, “and hunt out every suspicious looking person on it.
Want to go along?”
“Yes, sir,” Jimmie was emphatic.
“And keep still all day?”
“You bet!” Jimmie’s lips went close together.
“Then tonight at six o’clock,” Merle had the last word, “and meet me at
Flaherty’s butcher shop.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
HELEN TALKS TO RENFRO.
Renfro awoke early the next morning. The room of the cave in which
he was confined was dark and the air seemed colder, more mouldy than
on the night before. He wished that they had left the foul smelling
lantern in his room, though the evening before he had hoped it would be
removed.
His wrists and ankles felt numb. Last night they had ached for quite
a long time. He decided while he lay alone in the dark that when Bart
or Maggie came in he would ask them to ease the cords a bit. But when,
after more than an hour, the old man, still wearing the low brimmed cap
and surly air of the night before, came into the room Renfro decided
not to even mention the tightness of the cords.
It was the same smoking, ill smelling lantern of the night before that