XII
A New Discovery
The following morning Nancy Drew’s mood of despondency had fallen from her. She rose with new enthusiasm and eagerness to continue her investigations, yet she scarcely knew which way to turn. There were so many clues which needed unraveling and time was short.
The problem was somewhat simplified for her when at breakfast her father volunteered to find out what he could concerning Viola Granger.
“That will save me a lot of trouble,” Nancy told him gratefully. “I have another clue I want to work on this morning.”
“Anything worth while?”
“I’m afraid not, Dad. It’s a cry of desperation, I fear.”
“Well, good luck.”
“Thanks, I’ll need it.”
It was Nancy’s intention to learn whether or not Mary Mason had found employment, for she had not entirely given up the idea that in some way the girl might be connected with the mysterious disappearance of the Crandall jewels. To be sure, she did not have a particle of evidence to back up her theory except the seemingly sudden access of money, and that, she acknowledged, was too weak a foundation on which to build a theory. Yet, she told herself, she dared not neglect any pointer, no matter how feeble.
She was at a loss to know where to begin her search until she recalled the references which the girl had displayed when applying at the Drew household for work.
“Let me see,” Nancy mused. “Unless I’m mixed up on it, I believe she worked for a woman by the name of Stonewell. I’ll look in the directory and see if I can find a family listed by that name.”
Thumbing through the telephone book, she found several Stonewells and at length came upon the one she was seeking.
“Mrs. Howard Stonewell,” she read aloud, “fifteen hundred and four Sixth Street. I’m sure that was one of the names mentioned in the reference. I’ll call her and ask about Mary Mason.”
With her hand on the receiver, Nancy hesitated. After a moment’s thought she replaced the telephone on the stand, deciding that she could probably secure more satisfactory information by calling in person upon the woman.
Accordingly, she went to the garage for her roadster, and while she was still enthusiastic started on the mission. Nancy Drew was familiar with River Heights and had no difficulty in reaching Sixth Street, which was in the better section of the city. Presently she caught sight of the number for which she was searching, and stopped in front of a well-built brick house.
“Mary Mason must have held a fairly good position,” she thought, as she hurried up the walk.
She rang the bell and was admitted by a maid. Nancy asked to see Mrs. Stonewell, declining to state her business. Her confident bearing had its effect upon the servant, who went at once to summon her mistress. She returned almost immediately, saying that Mrs. Stonewell would see her in the drawing room.
“What can I do for you?” Mrs. Stonewell asked pleasantly, as she offered the girl a chair.
“I’m not certain that I have come to the right place,” Nancy returned. “You see, I am tracing a girl by the name of Mary Mason—”
“Mary Mason!” the woman exclaimed sharply.
“Yes. Did she work for you?”
“Indeed, she did,” Mrs. Stonewell returned dryly. “That is, at one time.”
“Then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions about her.”
“Why should I answer them? Is she in trouble?”
“I can’t tell you the details of the case, Mrs. Stonewell, but she is under suspicion. You will be doing the law a service if you tell me all you know about her.”
“I see, you’re a detective,” Mrs. Stonewell said, in an awed tone. “I’ll tell you everything I know about her—which isn’t a great deal. She worked for me five or six months ago. I kept her for a month and let her go.”
“A month?” Nancy questioned, in surprise. She recalled that in the reference Mary Mason had displayed it was stated that the girl had been employed by Mrs. Stonewell for more than a year.
“Yes, she did not prove satisfactory. I really hated to discharge her, for she came from a very poor family and no doubt needed the money. Still, I couldn’t put up with her insolent manners.”
“You gave her a good recommendation, I think.”
“Indeed, I didn’t.”
“That’s odd,” Nancy commented. “Mary Mason applied at my home for work, and I remember that she showed me a recommendation from you.”
“Then it was forged.”
“Have you any idea where this girl is working now?”
“She changes positions so often that I’ve given up keeping track of her. However, I do know that up until yesterday she was out of work. I happened to meet her on the street and asked her. After turning her away without a recommendation, my conscience troubled me and I made up my mind that when I met her again I would make it a point to find out if she were in need.”
“You offered her money?”
“No, I didn’t,” Mrs. Stonewell admitted. “From her clothing it was apparent that she was well provided with funds. In fact, I was amazed. I am sure her family can’t provide her with luxury.”
“Have you any idea where I can find her at present?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you where she lives. I remember she used to visit a brother of hers who resided in Dockville, but whether or not she is living with him, I can’t say.”
“Dockville? Isn’t that up the river?”
“Yes, about three miles from here. It’s a very disreputable section.”
“There’s one more question I’d like to ask,” Nancy said, as she rose to depart. “While this girl was working for you, did you ever miss anything?”
“No, I can’t say that I did. That is, nothing of value. I suspect that she frequently took food from the kitchen, but that is an old trick of unreliable help, you know.”
Nancy thanked Mrs. Stonewell for the information and took her departure. When she stepped upon the running board of her roadster she was undecided what to do next. Should she drop the search for Mary Mason or chance an unsuccessful trip to Dockville?
“To Dockville it is,” she determined.
As Nancy Drew shifted gears she told herself that in all probability she would waste the entire morning on a wild goose chase. She knew that it was unwise to devote so much time to Mary Mason when she did not have an iota of proof that the girl was connected with the mystery of Lilac Inn, and yet for the life of her she could not force herself to return home. Until she had talked with Mary she would never feel satisfied.
Nancy drove toward the river, zigzagging her way from one street to another. The pavement was poor, and as she approached the slum district it became even more bumpy.
“I’d hate to get a puncture,” she thought anxiously.
At length she reached the district known as Dockville, and, at a loss to know how to proceed, made a complete circle of the section. She was confronted with row upon row of tenement houses, all alike and of a dingy and uninviting appearance. Swarms of dirty children were playing in the streets, making it necessary for Nancy to watch her driving closely.
“I’ll never be able to locate Mary Mason here,” she thought in dismay. “I never dreamed so many people could crowd into one section.”
After driving a few blocks, she stopped her roadster and inquired of a foreign woman where she could find a family by the name of Mason. The woman shook her head without replying, and Nancy knew that she had not even understood the question. Going on a little further she stopped at a drug store, but the druggist was unable to help her. At random she questioned persons on the streets, but no one had heard of Mary Mason.
“I guess it’s hopeless,” Nancy thought in disappointment. “This is worse than hunting for a needle in a haystack.”
Nancy was convinced that the trip to Dockville had been a wasted one, but because it was not her nature to give up easily, she was unwilling to return home without at least one more effort. Without considering where she was going, she turned into a winding narrow street which led along the river front.
She drove slowly, studying the houses critically, though she had little hope of finding the one for which she was searching. For all she knew, she might have passed it unwittingly.
The dwellings on this street were even more squalid and dingy than the tenements, and were set back a considerable distance from the road. Apparently, many of the buildings had been deserted, for windows were broken out, roofs sagged, and the yards were choked with weeds. Nancy knew that only the most poverty-stricken lived along the docks. There were few persons to be seen in the vicinity, and those she did pass stared at her so hard and were so disreputable in appearance that she hesitated to question them.
“I’m sure Mary Mason wouldn’t live in a section like this,” Nancy decided.
Without warning she came to a dead-end street which brought her to an abrupt halt. She managed to turn in the narrow roadway and was just ready to shift into forward gear when she caught her breath in surprise.
Directly across the street, walking toward her, she saw a well-dressed young girl. There was something familiar about the figure and Nancy studied the girl intently, taking care to keep hidden behind the steering wheel. At first she could not believe her eyes, and then, she realized that at last her search had been, rewarded. The girl was Mary Mason.