CHAPTER XVIII

JOSIE O’GORMAN’S VICTORY

Outside the store even more stirring things were being enacted. When Miss Fauntleroy leaned over with the seeming intention of selecting a pencil from the beggar’s box there had been a quick exchange of glances between the proud beauty and the one-eyed mendicant, an exchange of glances and also the passing of a parcel which was slid from the wide, bell shaped sleeve of the young woman into the open breast of the man’s shabby coat. The movement was so rapid that no one who had not been on the lookout could possibly have seen it. But someone was on the lookout and that one was no other than the flapper of the bobbed black hair and the red, red mouth. She did a very remarkable thing for a flapper.

As quick as a flash she whipped out something from the pocket of her tweed suit, which, when one came to think of it, was of rather sober pattern for one so flapperish and not at all in keeping with the red beads and startling tam. The article she drew from her pocket flashed in the sunlight for a moment and then--snap! snap! and a pair of handcuffs gleamed on the wrists of the one-eyed beggar before the astonished Miss Fauntleroy could straighten up from the selection of a pencil.

“Don’t let him get away!” came in commanding tones from the mysterious flapper. The remark was addressed to none other than Jimmy Blaine, who had been pretending to be a corner masher during such moments as he could spare from the business of shopping for a highly fictitious family.

“Trust me!” was his cheery rejoinder as he laid a heavy hand on the shoulder of the beggar who was now trembling like a leaf.

The girl with the bobbed black hair then caught Miss Fauntleroy by the wrist, at the same moment producing another pair of handcuffs from the capacious pockets of her tweed suit. She endeavored to snap them on the wrists of the struggling girl, but Miss Fauntleroy proved too strong, and jerking free, started to run. Swift as had been the action a crowd had gathered, as crowds will, and closing around the struggling pair cut off all avenues of escape. The black haired girl must have known something about the game of football for she made a flying leap and caught the taller girl in an iron grip. They swayed together and fell.

In the scrimmage that ensued more startling things happened. Two hats came off, and with them two heads of hair. A red tam and a bobbed black wig were torn from the flapper, disclosing the closely coiled sandy hair and well shaped head of none other than Josie O’Gorman. The elaborate coiffure belonging to Miss Fauntleroy also came off with the stylish picture hat.

The combatants staggered to their feet. When Josie caught sight of her antagonist, standing hot, sullen and ashamed, so hemmed in by the crowd there was no escape, a wave of pity came over her. The proud and haughty Miss Fauntleroy was only a poor misguided boy. The marcelled wig with all its puffs and coils had turned a handsome lad into a beautiful young woman.

“Gee!” was all Josie could say. “And I thought you were your own sister all the time. I hate to put handcuffs on you--won’t you come along without them?”

“Yes--I’m through. The game’s up and I’m glad of it. I’ll go along with you all right.”

Major Simpson, closely followed by Mr. Burnett, was trying to make his way through the crowd. He knew something was going on and his superior intelligence must be in demand. He also knew that lace had been stolen and that a person with black bobbed hair was the thief. It was irritating that it was not Josie O’Gorman who had been caught in the act, but then, any thief was better than no thief at all.

“Here, let me through! I am a detective.”

The word detective was an open sesame for him. The crowd divided and he and Mr. Burnett passed through to the scene of the fray.

“Some scene it was!” Mr. Burnett described later on to his mother and sisters. “There was little Miss O’Gorman, her suit all dusty and dishevelled, her hat gone and her face made up in the most absurd manner with blackened brows and painted lips. She had by the hand a young boy dressed as a girl. Handsome? Handsome as Hermes! Shame and anger were both depicted on his countenance, and his head, with its dark, closely cropped curls, was hung in deep dejection. On the pavement wigs and hats were so much in evidence that one might have thought there had been a battle royal and both fighters had been decapitated. I had no idea who the youth was at first, not recognizing ‘Miss Fauntleroy’ without her wig. Miss O’Gorman’s famous string of red beads had broken and were scattered all over the pavement. It looked to me like a million beads, some of them as big as bantam eggs.”

Major Simpson, acting true to form, broke into the ring blustering as usual.

“What’s all this?” he demanded. Not recognizing Josie with her bizarre make-up or Miss Fauntleroy without her wig, the old gentleman stood gazing at the pavement. He suddenly remembered Min’s words: “Black bobbed hair and red tam.” He stooped and picked up Josie’s wig and hat. It looked as though a tragedy had just been enacted at the front entrance of Burnett & Burnett’s.

“Who has done this thing?” he asked solemnly, glaring all around.

“I reckon I did,” laughed Josie.

“I’ll say she did!” exclaimed Jimmy Blaine, who was still clinging to the handcuffed beggar.

At Josie’s words Major Simpson looked at her more closely and through the paint recognized the dangerous criminal, Miss Josie O’Gorman. Just then a policeman pushed his way through the crowd.

“Officer, arrest this woman,” commanded Major Simpson officiously, pointing an accusing finger at the grinning Josie. “I fancy, madam, you will find this no laughing matter when you are safely behind bars.”

“Yes, yes! She is the culprit!” cried the handcuffed beggar. “Good Mr. Officer, let me loose. I have done nothing but sit here trying in my poor-r way to make a living selling the pencils--and see, I am a good American, because I sell only the red, white and blue of our flag.”

“Do your duty, officer,” insisted Major Simpson. “Arrest this young woman. She is a shoplifter and depraved beyond belief for one so er--er--young.”

“And beautiful,” smirked the irrepressible Josie. She then turned to the officer, all levity of manner falling from her. “I am detective Josie O’Gorman, Sergeant Fagan. I have just caught this boy red-handed. Open his father’s coat and you will find a heap of costly lace which has been stolen from Burnett & Burnett within the last few minutes. I’ll turn this youth over to you. I am sure his case is one for the juvenile court to deal with. The father, who goes by the name of Kambourian and lives at 11 Meadow Street, is the one to arrest.”

The lace was found just as Josie had said, three bunches of it hidden in the ragged coat of the patch-eyed beggar. The patrol wagon was called and father and son were carried off, Kambourian loudly asserting his innocence in spite of the lace found in his manly bosom. He declared to the end that he had no idea how it had got there.

“I’ll follow as soon as I can wash my face,” Josie whispered to Sergeant Fagan. “Keep a close watch on the old bird. I believe the young one, poor fellow, is glad the thing has broken and I fancy you’ll have no trouble with him.”

Mr. Burnett had been a silent witness to the encounter between Josie and Major Simpson--silent and amused. He had promised Josie to let her manage the affair and he had done so, although he had been sorely tempted to step in and interfere when the self satisfied old gentleman had so peremptorily commanded the policeman to arrest the little detective. Now he wondered what stand Major Simpson would take and for a moment felt sorry for the hereditary employee of the firm of Burnett & Burnett. He need not have wasted his sympathy, however, as that gentleman’s self esteem was proof against any shock. He immediately took possession of the stolen lace as though he, and he alone, had been responsible for its recovery.

“Ah, yes, I was sure we could track down the criminal. A little patience and eternal vigilance and lo, the thief is caught!”

“Exactly!” said Josie, “but not always the right thief.”

“Patience, I say, patience and astuteness will unravel any mystery,” continued Major Simpson, ignoring Josie’s remark. “You will remember, Mr. Burnett, that I said from the beginning that Miss O’Gorman was not what she seemed. You will grant me that, eh?” And thus did the old man talk on and on, seeming actually to feel that it was his cleverness that had caught the shoplifters.

The net had closed around the Kambourians--husband, wife and son. The search warrant revealed a great store of stolen articles, taken not only from Burnett & Burnett’s but from almost every shop in Wakely; dainty, choice articles, just the kind with which to stock a novelty shop, which had been Madame Kambourian’s ambition.

“We had only just acqui-r-r-ed enough things,” she wailed after she and her husband were sentenced to a term in the penitentiary. “And I would have been all moved and away if that bad, bad per-r-son had not warned the author-r-ities that I was planning to flit. Such a kind looking per-r-son too! But one nevair-r-e can tell who is false.”

Be it said in favor of Kambourian, the man, that his deepest concern was for “poor Mamma” and his chief regret that she should not have escaped.

“If she had only told us that the young lady had bought the paper in which the articles of value were twisted we would have been more careful,” he said to Jimmy Blaine, who interviewed him for the great soul stirring scoop. “She merely said the lace and things had been lost. We had no knowledge how and we did not question poor Mamma too closely because we are always so tender of her. She is so gay and we did so hate to make her sad. This beggar’s life was hard on poor Mamma--to sit all day and whine for pennies when she loved so to live and be happy. And clothes--ah _mon Dieu_, how poor Mamma does love to dress up--yes--yes--I, too, like the life. Ah me! All that is to be postponed--but perhaps--some day--”

The boy, Roy, was taken before the juvenile court where the wise young judge listened to all Josie had to tell him of the unfortunate environment in which he had been raised. She told of the conversation she had overheard through the open window and of the boy’s evident reluctance to proceed in the dishonest course mapped out for him by his parents.

“Yes,” the boy told the judge, “I have hated it always, but because I had the knack of mimicry and could pass myself off for a girl I was forced to wear those fool clothes and pretend I was ‘Miss Fauntleroy.’ I despised myself all the time, despised myself and began to despise them, I mean my mother and father, although they did love me and were always kind to me except that they made a thief of me. Of course if I was going to be a thief I determined to be the very cleverest thief in the business, and if it had not been for you, Miss O’Gorman, I believe I could have been. Anyhow I am glad it is all over and I’m going to be as straight now as I used to be crooked. All I want is a chance. Gee, I’m glad to be able to wear pants all the time! I never have been a sissy, and many is the time I felt like jumping in the river when I had to wear those silly skirts and picture hats. It was poor Mamma’s fault. Not that I blame her, for she did so want to have a nice little shop of her own and dress up in pretty things. She always said when once we got together enough things we would go into a real business and stop stealing. Poor Mamma! I wish I could do something for her.”

Josie thought that a prison term might do more for poor Mamma than anything else. At least it might teach her that honesty was the best policy for her to pursue in the future.

A chance was given Roy. The judge of the juvenile court sent him to an industrial school where it would be possible for him to work out his own salvation. He was as a brand snatched from the burning and, by God’s grace, snatched in time. Josie was sorry for the youth and Mary Leslie wept many tears in her pity.

“He was so handsome,” she sobbed.

“He still is,” consoled Josie, “and now it can be ‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ as my father used to say. This thing broke just in time to save that poor boy from becoming a confirmed criminal. As it is, I bet anything he’ll pull through and come out of that school a good fellow and a useful citizen. He is interested in the stage and I hope he’ll do something big in the dramatic line some day. The way he acted _Miss Fauntleroy_ was little short of genius.”

“Perhaps he’ll come out all right,” said Mrs. Leslie, “but I have my doubts about foreigners. Anyhow I am glad we took you to board, Josie, because it has made life much more interesting. Just to think of Mr. Burnett’s writing me a letter of thanks for the part I took in helping to catch that woman! Of course I appreciate the handsome check he sent me and the fur jacket he sent Mary, but I think more of the letter than I do of the check and the jacket. After all, the detective tales I have read did something for me, if only to make me keep my eyes open for mix-ups.”

Major Simpson decided after due consideration to accept Burnett & Burnett’s offer of a pension and he determined to retire from the active labors of a detective.

“Of course this is a good time to retire, while I am yet in the hey-dey of my powers,” he was heard to say to Miss Willie at Maison Blanche. Mrs. Trescott was the person who heard him say it and it was with difficulty that she controlled her merriment. “I have just been the means of tracking down for my firm a family of desperate criminals and--er--er--out of gratitude to me the Burnett Brothers have offered to pension me on--er--er--full pay.”

“How wonderful!” trilled Miss Willie. “But you will remain in Wakely, surely?”

“Ah, yes! In fact I should not like to go far from Burnett & Burnett’s because they may need my advice at any moment. My advice--er--er--is most important.”

Josie had made many friends at Burnett & Burnett’s, and they were one and all very sorry that she was leaving the notion counter and Wakely.

“We felt all the time that you were a little different,” Jane Morton told her. “Min and I used to talk about it, but we just thought you had picked up more education than we had and that was what made you different. If we had ever known that you were a detective we might have been a little shy. But we have learned that a woman detective may also be a human being. As for that ‘Miss Fauntleroy,’ my blood boils when I think of her--him. Anyhow we never did have much to do with him because we always mistrusted her--er--him. She never did seem natural and now since she has turned out to be a boy, I see the reason. One thing to his credit, he was a gentleman, even when masquerading as a girl, and never tried to get chummy with us. I feel a little sorry for him and hope he will turn out all right.”

That night Josie accepted Mr. Theodore Burnett’s insistent invitation to take dinner at his home. There was no longer any good reason for refusal, though in truth she sought no such reason.

Never was there a gayer, livelier party. Mr. Burnett’s sisters, May and Lily, vied with one another in little acts of gracious hospitality, and the aged mother, austerely garbed in a voluminous black dress, gave the lie to her years and her garb as fires kindled in her deep set eyes at the retelling of the capture of the shoplifters. Mr. Theodore was high in his praise and colorful in his narration.

Josie, vivacious enough in other matters, had little to say concerning her latest exploit, having learned from her father that modesty and justifiable pride are becoming handmaidens.

“Now, Miss O’Gorman,” said Mr. Theodore when the dinner was over, “let us come back to a matter of business. You know how we appreciate your efforts and how valuable your services have been to our firm. However, it is hardly to be hoped that this will definitely stop all shoplifting. When the story has cooled, the whole wretched business will flare up again. Through diplomacy we have succeeded in influencing Major Simpson to retire on full pay. No doubt he deserves it, for as my brother Charles points out, loyalty deserves reward, and the Major was certainly loyal. Now we are in need of a house detective and we are willing to substantially increase the pay where results are as certain as mere loyalty. A-hem, the--the place is yours, Miss O’Gorman, if you will take it.”

Before the astonished Josie could form a reply the aged mother broke in:

“I hope you will accept, and I want you to come here to live. This is a big house, plenty of room, and you will add a great deal of life to our colorless world. I have reared four children who have been successful in a matter-of-fact way. I feel that I would like to mother you--you with your startling ingenuity. Won’t you come?”

“You simply _must_!” chorused Lily and May. “Please do. Just think of the things we could think up to do,” and they clapped their hands in anticipation.

Josie was troubled. She appreciated the kindness; sensed its deep sincerity. But she knew her own spirit--knew that dull routine could not long hold her interest.

“I am sorry,” she began simply, “but I must get back to Dorfield and my work. The Higgledy Piggledy Shop needs me, and somehow I seem to need it. Then, too, Captain Lonsdale writes me that there is work to do right away--a peculiar case that he thinks I can handle. I--I simply can’t tell you how I feel, but surely you will understand.”

“I do,” nodded the mother. “You are too big a girl for a little place. We will miss you, but I am glad that you are ambitious.”

“It isn’t ambition,” answered Josie, and a big tear stood in her eye. “It is a sort of trust, the carrying on of my father’s work.”

“Well, well,” boomed Mr. Theodore, vigorously blowing his nose, “you must not forget us. Some day you may feel like accepting the offer. It is an open one and may bring you back to Wakely.”

“Poof!” protested Lily. “As if she must wait for _that_ to bring her back. She is going to visit us at least once every year and give us a complete account of herself--won’t you, Josie?”

“I’d love to,” Josie answered quietly.

She little realized what the coming year would bring and how thrilling would be that first account. Some hint of it came to her a few days later when she reached Dorfield and called on Captain Lonsdale. The task put before her called for the best that was in her; an undertaking worthy of the efforts of her illustrious father.

Sobered by the importance of the coming quest, she seemed to have lost some of her spontaneity when her friends, Irene and Mary Louise, rapturously greeted her return to the Higgledy Piggledy Shop.

“My dear,” said Mary Louise a little later when the first warm gush of welcome was over, “you have changed. You seem so quiet and--and sort of sweetly pensive. I declare, Irene, I believe she is in love.”

“I am,” said Josie, comically wriggling her nose in her old manner, “with my work.”

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.