XIII
A Surprise
“Can it be that Mary Mason lives in this neighborhood?” Nancy Drew asked herself in surprise.
There could be no question as to the identity of the girl, for she was now close enough for Nancy to see her face distinctly. She wore a neat silk frock, simple in line but unmistakably new and expensive.
Nancy’s first inclination was to call to her, but upon second thought she decided that such a course would be foolish. It was doubtful that the girl would tell her anything she wanted to know, and by waiting and watching she might learn something to her advantage. Accordingly, she crouched lower behind the steering wheel of her roadster, hoping that she would not be observed.
Unaware that she was being watched, Mary Mason continued down the street, swaggering a trifle as she walked. Nancy saw her turn in at a dilapidated old house. She paused on the porch, fumbled in her bag for a key, then unlocked the door and entered.
“That’s where she lives, all right,” Nancy Drew decided as the door closed behind the girl. “Lucky for me that I came this way.”
It was with considerable misgiving that she surveyed the house. From the road the place appeared deserted.
“There’s something mighty strange about that girl’s actions,” she thought. “Surely, she wouldn’t live in a place like this unless she were reduced to the lowest sort of poverty, and her clothing doesn’t indicate that.”
While Nancy was debating what to do next, she heard the rumble of a delivery auto. Glancing up she was astonished to see it come to a stop in front of the house Mary had entered.
“Taylor’s Store,” Nancy murmured, reading the red sign on the outside of the delivery wagon. “Why, that’s the largest department store in River Heights! I wonder why it’s stopping here?”
Evidently the driver was somewhat nonplussed at the appearance of the dwelling, for he studied the number a moment, glanced at a paper in his hand, and then scratched his head in a puzzled sort of way.
“I guess this must be the place, all right,” Nancy heard him mutter.
He shut off the motor and climbed out of the van. Going around to the back, he unlocked the rear doors and took out a number of packages. They were all sizes and shapes, but one was round like a hat box and another looked as though it might contain a dress or a coat. In all there were seven packages.
“My goodness, those things can’t all be for Mary,” Nancy told herself. “Surely, she can’t afford them.”
The driver of the van hurried up the walk to the house and knocked firmly on the door. There was a long wait and it was not until the man had called out impatiently: “Taylor’s Delivery!” that the door swung open on its rusty hinges. Nancy saw Mary Mason take the packages. She then closed the door and the driver went back to his wagon. He climbed in, started the engine, and went clattering on down the street.
“I’d like to see the inside of those packages,” Nancy told herself, “but I can guess what they contain. It beats me where that girl gets the money for all her finery. Of course she may buy on credit.”
She realized that such a possibility might put an entirely different face on the situation. If it were true that Mary had charge accounts at the various stores, her sudden acquisition of elegant clothes could be explained.
“I don’t believe a store in town would offer her credit,” Nancy reasoned.
She had no intention of permitting the question to go unanswered. Hastily shifting gears, she started after the delivery wagon which had turned the corner and was traveling northward.
“I hope I haven’t lost him!” Nancy thought anxiously.
As she turned the corner she caught a glimpse of red far up the street and was certain that it was the Taylor delivery auto. Speeding up, she soon overtook the wagon, but contented herself with following close behind for several blocks.
It was not until both cars were well out of the slum district that the driver stopped. This was the opportunity Nancy had sought. She pulled up behind the delivery wagon and waited until the man had come back from the house where he had delivered a small package.
“Are you the delivery man from Taylor’s?” Nancy asked, by way of an opening.
“Sure. Can’t you read the sign?” the driver returned carelessly.
Nancy ignored the gibe and gave the man a smile which disarmed him at once.
“What kin I do for you?” he demanded more graciously.
“Have you delivered any packages to a person named Mary Mason?”
“That girl who lives down in Dockville? Sure! I just dropped off seven of ’em there.”
“I hope you got your money,” Nancy said slyly.
“I sure did,” the driver returned, with a broad grin. “Every cent of it! None of these here C.O.D. gals kin slip it over on me.”
It was on the tip of Nancy’s tongue to ask another question, but the driver climbed into his seat and drove away, leaving her to gaze thoughtfully after the retreating delivery wagon. What she had learned left her more perplexed than before. From what the delivery man had said it was evident that Mary Mason was buying finery from the stores and paying cash. Again the question that had troubled Nancy from the very start loomed up. Where had the girl secured her money?
“It’s beginning to look suspicious,” Nancy told herself, a trifle grimly. “This may not be the Lilac Inn mystery, but it is a mystery, none the less. I may have two cases on my hands.”
She knew that Mary came of a poor family and it was highly improbable that she had relatives who were providing her with funds. The girl had no employment, and, what was even more significant, she did not seem to be interested in finding work. Otherwise, she certainly would have gone to Lilac Inn at Helen Corning’s suggestion. Were these clues or were they not?
“I must proceed cautiously,” Nancy assured herself. “I might get myself into serious trouble by falsely accusing her of a crime. So far the evidence certainly isn’t sufficient to warrant any action.”
Nancy had stood so long at the curbing that passersby were beginning to stare at her curiously. Coming back to reality with a start, she stepped into her roadster and after a little hesitation headed for home.
“I don’t believe there’s any use going back to see Mary today,” she decided, glancing at her watch. “It’s nearly luncheon time and Mrs. Carter will be expecting me. I probably wouldn’t gain anything by talking with Mary, anyway. She wouldn’t admit a thing. I must think out my line of action carefully before I try to interview her.”
As Nancy drove slowly toward home she continued to mull over the facts she had obtained. If only she could correctly interpret the information!
In reviewing everything she knew about Mary, she recalled that when the girl had called at her home to secure work she had appeared earnest enough. Apparently, she had come into her money since that date and had consequently lost her desire for employment.
“The thing that puzzles me is how she happened to get money just about the time of the jewelry robbery,” Nancy mused. “Of course there may be no connection, and again there may be. I remember she seemed startled when I mentioned that my father was a criminal lawyer. It seems to me she wouldn’t have acted that way if she hadn’t been up to something dishonest.”
And yet, in all fairness to Mary Mason, Nancy was forced to admit that in her eagerness to find a clue she was getting the cart before the horse. It was true the girl had refused employment at the Drew household, seemingly because she was afraid of Nancy’s father, but at that time the Crandall jewels had not been stolen. Perhaps her money had been secured from a previous dishonest deal. If such were the case, Nancy, in trying to pin the Crandall robbery upon her, was following another false clue.
“Oh, it’s all a dreadful mess,” Nancy thought in despair. “Every day in every way I’m getting in deeper and deeper.”