CHAPTER XXII

THE DANGER SQUAD IN ACTION

It was a fascinating tale. Every detail told by Nora took on new value as it was silently applauded by her eager audience. Thus encouraged she waxed eloquent, and when she finished all about the wearing of the Fauntleroy costume, then her desire to tell Alma the truth, when she knew the Scouts were teasing the Tenderfoot, the recital might well have been called a credit, even to the girl who felt guilty of its secrets.

"You see," she said naïvely, "I was always so much alone. I had no companion but Barbara, and she agreed with everything I said."

"What a change this must be!" murmured Wyn.

"Hush!" warned Betta. "Funny as you are, Wynnie, you _can_ be rude."

"And now, girls," said Nora in a brand new tone of voice, "as I have told you all of that, I feel anxious to tell you something else. I have another secret and I think it is much more serious than anything else that has happened on this wonderful vacation."

"Out with it," begged some one, but Nora did not hear the thoughtless phrase.

Miss Beckwith sat with the girls, encouraging their confidences, and the usual safety in numbers was surely a clue to the satisfaction of the novel meeting. Secrets were best shared by the multitude, then what one was not wise enough to know, some one would surely be clever enough to guess--so far as solution of the problem went.

"One day when I was wandering around--it was the day we had such a wonderful time----" Nora started.

"When you learned to swim?" prompted Wynnie.

"I think it was. Well, I just walked along a lane I had never found before," continued the prince--for she was still that noble character, "and under a cave of pines--they grew so thick I could hardly see there, it was almost as dark as night; and right there, in a bed of leaves I saw something move."

Just who was it that choked back Wyn's interruption does not matter, but presently Nora continued:

"At first, of course, I thought it was a dog or something like that, but all of a sudden it sat up!"

"Oh!" exclaimed the sympathetic Alma.

"Yes, it sat up and looked at me with eyes like coals of fire."

"Nora!" shouted Laddie. "I am all goose flesh, please tell us who had the eyes."

"I'm trying to," said Nora, realizing the value of pauses. "I was so frightened I wanted to run, but before I could do so the creature showed how frightened she was----"

"She!" This was Betta.

"Yes, it was a poor, miserable little girl, all rags and eyes, and so sad looking! Really girls, my heart went out to her," declared the story teller in her most Nora-esque manner.

Titters barely tinctured the atmosphere. Miss Beckwith begged the girls to listen politely.

"I managed to get her to tell me her name," said Nora next. "And it was Lucia."

"Lucia," repeated a chorus in perfect time, pronouncing it "Luchia."

"Yes, a poor, neglected, little Italian girl, who has to work on one of the big farms----"

"There!" almost shouted Alma. "I knew when you saved your picnic lunch it was for something noble. It was for Lucia, wasn't it?"

"Yes, but after bringing her food for days she suddenly disappeared."

"What happened to her?" asked Pell.

"How can I tell?" sighed Nora. "I have done everything to find out. I have even had Cousin Ted drive me around the big farms hoping to get a glimpse of her, but I never saw any one who even looked like her. Then, I haven't told you the most pathetic part," she paused again. "The last day I went to fetch her a lovely piece of pie, you know I used to put food in a big tin box Vita gave me; well, there was all that I had left the day before. Of course, I was awfully disappointed and I felt so--sorry I had not told you girls----"

"If you had, Nora," said Miss Beckwith, gently, "we might have found a way to help the child."

"I know that, Becky, and I am telling this now partly to----"

"Ease your conscience," prompted Pell.

"Yes; I don't want any more secrets. They are more worry than they can possibly be worth," said Nora tritely.

"You were telling us about the box," prompted Alma.

"Oh, yes; but I must hurry, I have to go home very soon. It is time the folks were back."

"Tell us the rest and we won't interrupt once," promised Wyn in a contrite tone, and she seemed to mean it.

"I found a little paper bouquet in the box," Nora continued. "And a scribbled bit of paper."

"What was on it?" Betta could not help asking.

"Just a few words, 'Goodbye, I love you.'" Nora stopped suddenly.

"The poor, little thing," commiserated Alma. "And could you find no way to tell who she was or where she lived?"

"I didn't dare ask anyone outright," answered Nora, "because you see, I had promised not to tell anyone about meeting her. She was in terror of a man she called Nick."

"Nick?" repeated a number.

"Yes; she would only say he was a bad man, and I know she feared him for she would tremble so when she mentioned his name."

Miss Beckwith had remained in the background. If she knew a way to solve the mystery, evidently she did not think the time had come to disclose it.

"But when I found she was gone--I knew what a mistake I had made in not telling anyone about it. Even if she was afraid, I could surely have trusted--Alma," sighed Nora.

In the semi-darkness none could see the look of affection Alma threw out. Her sensitive soul had found solace in the companionship of the almost equally sensitive Nora.

"I must go," insisted Nora. "The folks will be home and I am going to tell them about that attic noise tonight, Vita or no Vita."

"You are perfectly right in that," said Miss Beckwith. "Come along, girls, we will all see Nora home this time."

They wanted to carry her back, but costumed and all that she was, Nora felt little like partaking in their frolic. She feared something. That moaning was human, of this she was certain; and it was equally certain that Vita was in too good health when she appeared at the door, to have been in any way implicated, physically.

"If your folks have not returned will you come back and stay all night?" suggested Betta. "We could leave a message for them and you know you have not stayed a single night at camp yet."

"I am sure they are at home, I see the light in the living room," responded Nora. "But thank you, just the same, Betta. I shall love to stay a night soon, I have been counting on having that treat before this vacation is over."

They had rounded the curve and the Nest was now in full view. Presently they were at the door and Nora touched the knocker.

There was no immediate response and she wondered. "I can see inside, the curtain is up, and I don't see a soul," she declared.

"Nor hear a sound," added Pell who was listening at the keyhole.

Here was another cause for wonderment. Nora rapped the knocker until the sound seemed doubly loud, reverberating in the dusk.

But there was no answer. "What can it mean?" asked Nora anxiously. "I am sure some one lighted the lights, can they have gone out looking for me?"

"Can't you get in?" asked Miss Beckwith.

"Yes. I know where to find the emergency key. But I don't think I'll go in." Nora seemed doomed to spend the night at camp after all.

The girls crowded around. Plainly any excitement was a welcome diversion for them.

"Maybe the groaner lighted up," suggested Wyn, facetiously. "She seems to like traveling."

"You are so brave, Wynnie," said Miss Beckwith, "I wonder would you be brave enough to go in and investigate?"

"Certainly," came the quick rejoinder. "I'd like nothing better. Volunteers?" she called out.

"Hush!" begged Nora. "It may be that Vita is upstairs and has not heard us, although she must have heard that knock."

Again she rapped the knocker.

"Hark!" said Betta. "I honestly thought I heard a cry."

Everyone was now breathless.

"I do hear some one crying," declared Alma. "Whoever can it be?"

"That up-attic person, I'm sure," said Wyn. "Better get the key, Nora. We can't let them cry to death while we are all here, listening in."

"I think I heard crying," said Miss Beckwith. "Perhaps you had better open the door, Nora."

From under the fern dish Nora procured the key.

Miss Beckwith took it, and presently the door was open. The hall was flooded with light, but everyone instinctively stepped back.

There was no sound.

"Where's Cap?" asked Nora. "We left him here."

"There is really nothing to fear," said Miss Beckwith. "Here we are, a half dozen of us. I think we had better go inside. Maybe poor old Cap is locked in somewhere and held captive."

"Oh, that's so," replied Nora. "He has a habit of getting in closets and he might have sprung the door shut. Sometimes he moans----"

That was enough to excite practical sympathy, and everyone promptly stepped inside. Once within, it did not seem so fearful. Pell prowled around and Wyn made foolish noises; but Nora hung back.

After satisfying themselves there was nothing wrong on the first floor they decided to investigate the second.

"I can always hear it right over my room," said Nora when the band of Chickadees inundated that territory. "There! Did you hear that?"

"Yes, someone is crying upstairs," declared Miss Beckwith, "and we must see who it is."

"But suppose----"

"Here's Cap. He would not let anyone touch us," declared Nora. "But Becky----"

"Come along, girls, that is not the voice of a man or woman. Come, we must do something. It sounds like----"

Bouncing up on Nora, Cap whined. "There, he knows, he wants me to go up. What is it, Cap?" Nora asked again, and again the dog whined piteously.

Now, everyone was willing to lead, yet they formed quite an orderly drill.

This was an emergency and emergency always means order for Scouts.