CHAPTER XVII

A Wanted Thief

“Judy!” The exclamation came from Pauline, very suddenly as if she had just thought of something. “I know what we ought to do. We ought to visit Mr. Lawson. If he really is the thief I’d like to know about it. I could pretend I wanted to make a donation or something. Shall we try it?”

Judy hesitated. She didn’t like that sort of pretending, though sometimes it was the best strategy. Also, Peter had asked her to stay out of trouble, and this would be walking right into it. But it could very easily be her chance to help him.

“How do we get there?” she asked. “Is it very far?”

“I’m hungry. Let’s eat something first,” Flo suggested.

The three girls had lunch in the same restaurant where they first met Clarissa. They asked the cashier about her, but he claimed he remembered no such scene as they described.

“No one goes away from this restaurant angry,” he told them. “Do you see that?” He pointed to a decorated sign bearing the words: Our Aim is to Please the Best People in the World, Our Customers.

“But this girl tried to cheat you,” Pauline protested.

“She was a customer. She was still one of the best people,” he replied without a change of expression.

“You might as well talk to a statue,” Flo whispered. “Come on.”

“It’s only a few blocks to the house where Mr. Lawson lives,” Pauline told them. “It isn’t as cold and blustery today as it was yesterday. We can walk.”

On the way, Judy and Flo began comparing their dreams of the night before.

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” Judy said, “but I can’t help feeling that my dream was a warning of some kind and that we ought to heed it. I’m not just sure how.”

“What about you, Pauline? Did you dream about hair, too? That may be a clue to what’s happening to us, if you did,” Flo said eagerly.

The dark-haired girl shook her head. “My dreams are never very clear. I can’t remember them well enough to tell them afterwards. I only know I cried out in my sleep, and Mary came up to see what was the matter. She said I was calling for my mother. I never do that. I hardly remember her. Mary’s kept house for us ever since I was about little Judy’s age. But Mother did have golden hair. I take after Father. I wish—”

“Don’t say it,” Judy stopped her. “You’re going to wish you had golden hair.”

“Could we have been hypnotized?” Flo began.

“I don’t know. Ask your father about hypnotism, Pauline,” Judy urged. “He’ll know. He may use it on his patients. Dr. Zoller, a sort of uncle of mine, is a hypnotist, and Dad approves of it when it’s not misused. Of course, if hypnotism was part of a confidence game Clarissa was playing—”

“It was! I’m sure of it,” Flo interrupted. “She said we read her mind, and she talked us into buying that shampoo, didn’t she?”

“I’m not sure. I thought it was your idea,” Judy began.

“Well, I’m sure. She talked us into lending her the money, too. Then she left the theater when we were all so interested in the play we didn’t notice. It was all a trick,” declared Flo. “Can’t you see it? Clarissa did it all.”

“She even vanished on purpose,” Pauline agreed. “It’s clear to me—”

“It’s clear to me, too,” Judy interrupted. “It’s perfectly clear that we haven’t found out a single thing. Isn’t it about time we started using our heads? Peter doesn’t jump to conclusions without examining the evidence. If he’s willing to risk his life to turn up a few facts to present at preliminary hearings, the least we can do is discuss this with him before we decide who’s guilty.”

“Guilty of what?” asked Flo. “Making us dream?”

Suddenly all three girls began to laugh. It seemed ridiculous for them to be taking their dreams so seriously. But their laughter died in their throats when they reached Mr. Lawson’s house. Judy was the first to notice the shattered glass in the door. It was broken in a peculiar way. Several round holes with cracks radiating from them told the story.

“Bullet holes!” she exclaimed. “This was the place where it happened. You’re too late, Pauline. You won’t find Mr. Lawson—”

Meantime Flo had rung the bell. A heavy-set woman came in answer to it just in time to hear the name. She peered at the girls through the shattered glass before she opened the door.

“So it’s Mr. Lawson you want, is it?” she inquired. “And what would you be wanting with the good man?”

Good man! Judy could hardly contain herself. Did the woman know what sort of man he really was? Or had he fooled her just as he had fooled the people in Pauline’s church? He had even outwitted Peter.

“We did want to see him,” Pauline began, affecting a timid voice. “We came to make a donation—”

“Indeed!” the woman interrupted. “I’ll take it, if you please, and forward it to him. He’s away for a couple of weeks.”

“Far away,” thought Judy, “and not likely to come back.” Aloud she said, with perfect control, “We prefer to send the money ourselves. Could you give us his address?”

“Well, now, I could.” She hesitated a moment and then went inside, returning with a piece of paper on which a post office box number was written. “You can reach him there,” she said briefly and closed the door.

“Now what do we do?” asked Flo. “Shall we write him a letter and invite him to come back home and be arrested? We aren’t really going to send him any money, are we?”

“He doesn’t need our money. He has plenty,” Judy began when Pauline interrupted heatedly.

“He certainly has. People were generous. There was all of fifty thousand dollars in the building fund. With that much on hand he can stay in hiding for a long, long time. Are you going to tell Peter where we were?” Pauline asked suddenly.

“Eventually,” Judy said. “It bothers me when I have to keep things from him. He won’t like it, of course. Maybe I ought to wait until he’s feeling a little better before I say anything.”

“I think you’re right,” Pauline agreed. “Just stay cheerful for Peter, and don’t worry about a thing.”