"I had to come," retorted the man in an undertone. He cast an anxious glance toward the garage. "Now get away from here unless you want to give everything away!"

"I didn't know anyone was around," the housekeeper muttered. She turned and fled into the house.

Penny and Susan waited a minute or two before emerging from the garage with the flashlight.

"Sorry I was so long," apologized Penny.

"It doesn't matter," replied Walter Crocker crossly. "I've looked everywhere. The letters aren't here."

"You must have dropped them some other place," said Susan innocently.

"Yes," nodded Penny, "you might have left them at Mr. Crocker's place.

Have you inquired there?"

"No, I haven't," the man replied shortly.

Without another word he climbed into his own car and drove away.

"That was a good quip--telling him to inquire of Herman Crocker!" Susan laughed after the man was out of sight. "I thought he would explode with rage!"

Penny was staring thoughtfully toward the house.

"Susan," she said, "Mrs. Masterbrook evidently knew Walter Crocker."

"Yes, that was queer, wasn't it?"

"She seemed to be afraid of him," Penny went on in a low voice. "Or rather, she appeared to fear that someone would find him here at the cottage. What do you make of it?"

"I think," drawled Susan, "that the mystery is a long way from explained."

"And I agree with you," said Penny, "but these letters may help a little. Come on, let's go down to the ravine and read them."

CHAPTER XVI

A Lost Handkerchief

The girls ran down the path to the ravine, selecting a sunny spot by a large rock. From where they sat they could look far down the valley and see the swinging footbridge which Herman Crocker had designated as a meeting place with his nephew.

"Well, here are the letters," Penny said gaily, removing them from her dress. "Wouldn't Walter rave if he knew we had them!"

"They're worth fifty thousand dollars!" Susan laughed. "At least that's the price Walter expects to make his uncle pay for them. Penny, what would happen if we just kept these letters?"

"I suppose Old Herman would refuse to pay over the money. I know I should in his case."

"Then why wouldn't that be a good solution of the matter?"

"It would from Old Herman's standpoint," Penny said dryly. "But you're forgetting that Walter isn't actually a blackmailer. The money really belongs to him."

"Then by keeping these letters we might be depriving him of his rightful inheritance?"

"It seems that way. I don't like Walter any better than you do--he appears to be a rather unscrupulous fellow even if he does have the law on his side. However, we can't let our personal feelings enter into the matter."

"That being the case, why did we interfere at all?" Susan asked.

"Wouldn't it have been better not to have taken the letters? Now if we decide to give then back, we'll have a lot of explaining to do."

"You are perfectly right, of course, Susan. My curiosity simply got the best of me again. I felt as if I had to read these letters."

"Then let's read them," Susan laughed.

Penny untied the cord which bound the letters into a neat package.

There were eight of them all addressed to Herman Crocker. Return notations in the corners showed that five of the letters were from the old man's sister, Jenny. The others were from the woman named Hilda Frank and were postmarked, Belgrade Lakes, Maine.

"That is a summer resort place," Penny commented as she opened the first letter. "If Herman's sister had plenty of money she may have been staying there."

Susan crowded close beside her chum so that they might read the communications together. The letter from Hilda Frank disclosed several facts of interest. The woman, evidently a housekeeper for Herman's sister, had written to say that her mistress had pa.s.sed away following a sudden illness. She wished Herman to come at once to take charge of funeral arrangements and to look after Jenny's young son, Walter.

"Jenny thought that no one would take care of him as well as you," the housekeeper wrote, "and the money she left will be more than enough to keep him. It is her wish as expressed in her will that if anything should ever happen to the boy, you are to be the sole heir--otherwise the money is to be kept in trust.

"This will signed by my mistress on the day before her death is now in my possession. I await your arrival before filing it with the court."

The two additional letters from Hilda Frank had been written weeks later, and inquired after the welfare of the boy, Walter, indicating that Herman Crocker after going east to attend his sister's funeral had brought the lad home with him.

"But we're quite certain Herman never arrived here with Walter," Penny commented thoughtfully. "The only boy who has ever been seen at the Crocker place is the old man's grandson."

"What do you think happened?" Susan asked.

"Obviously, from all we have learned, Herman must have decided that he wanted all the money for himself. He then had the boy conveniently disappear."

"How could he hope to get away with anything as crude as that?"

"I don't know, but his plan seemed to work for many years. I suppose there weren't many persons who ever suspected that Jenny had a child."

"Mrs. Frank did."

"Yes, but Herman probably quieted her with some simple story. Anyway, she lived in Maine and that's a long way from here."

"It's inconceivable that he could get by with such high-handed robbery!

Stealing from a child!"

"It is disgusting," Penny agreed. "We don't know what became of Walter, but probably he was brought up by some strange person in complete ignorance of his heritage."

"Then how did he learn his true name and that he had a right to the fortune? How did he know about these letters in the trunk?"

"My theory collapses right there," Penny admitted ruefully. "I can't figure that part out at all."