“My aunt has a big old safe in her room, that she always keeps locked,” Elsie began. “She hasn’t any faith in banks, she says, because they are always closing, so all her money is in this safe. I’ve often heard Aunt Grace try to make Aunt Mattie stop hoarding, but Aunt Mattie always refuses. She loves to have it where she can see it and count it.”
“A regular miser,” remarked Jane.
“Yes. It’s her one joy in life – besides the little kitten. Every morning after breakfast she opens that safe and counts her money over again.”
“Doesn’t she ever spend any?” asked Mary Louise.
“A little, of course. She pays William and Hannah a small amount, and she buys some food, especially in winter. But we have a garden, you know, and chickens and a cow.”
“When did she miss this money?”
“This morning. It was there yesterday. Aunt Mattie counted it right after you girls went home. You can hear her say the figures out loud and sort of chuckle to herself. But today she just let out a scream. It was horrible! I thought she was dying.”
“Maybe it was taken last night,” said Mary Louise. “Did you hear any of those queer noises – I mean the kind you heard before, when you thought somebody searched that old trunk in the attic?”
“No, I didn’t. That’s the worst part. Nobody else heard anything, either, all night long, and no door locks were broken. Of course, a burglar might have entered over the front porch roof, through Aunt Mattie’s window. But she’s a light sleeper, and she says she never heard a sound.”
“So of course she claims you stole it!”
Elsie nodded and started to cry again.
“But I didn’t! I give you my word I didn’t!”
“Of course you didn’t, Elsie. We believe you.”
“Aunt Mattie did everything but torture me to get a confession out of me. She said if I didn’t own up to it and give it back she’d send me to a reform school, and I’d be branded as a criminal for the rest of my life.”
“She couldn’t do that!” exclaimed Mary Louise furiously. “If she has no proof … I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Elsie! I’ll put my father on the case when he comes home! He’s a detective on the police force, and he’s just wonderful. He’ll find the real thief.”
Elsie shook her head.
“No, I’m afraid you can’t do that. Because Aunt Mattie distinctly said that she won’t have the police meddling in this. She says that if I didn’t steal the money somebody else in the family did.”
“What family?”
“Aunt Grace’s family. She’s the Mrs. Grant, you know, who lives in Riverside. She has three grown-up children and one grandchild. Aunt Mattie says one of these relatives is guilty, if I’m not, and she’ll find out herself, without bringing shame upon the Grant name.”
Mary Louise groaned.
“The only thing I can see for us to do, then, is to be detectives ourselves. Jane and I will do all we can to help you, won’t we, Jane?”
Her chum nodded. “At least, if we don’t have to get into any spookiness at night,” she amended. “Those mysterious sounds you told us about, Elsie – ”
“They may all have some connection with this robbery,” announced Mary Louise. “And I’d like to find out!”
Elsie looked doubtful.
“I only hope Aunt Mattie doesn’t try the bread-and-water diet on me, to get a confession. Really, you have no idea how awful that is till you try it. You just get crazy for some real food. You’d be almost willing to lie to get it, even if you knew the lie was going to hurt you.”
“If she tries that, you let us know,” cried Jane angrily, “and we’ll bring our parents right over here!”
“All right, I will.” Elsie seemed to find some relief in the promise.
“Elsie,” said Mary Louise very seriously, “tell me who you really think did steal the money.”
The girl considered the problem carefully.
“I believe it was somebody in Aunt Grace’s family,” she replied slowly. “Because they used to be rich, and now they are poor. And I think that if a burglar had entered the house, somebody, probably Aunt Mattie, would have wakened up.”
“Couldn’t he have entered before your aunt went to bed?” suggested Mary Louise.
“Maybe. But Aunt Mattie was on the front porch all evening, and she’d probably have heard him.”
“All right, then,” agreed Mary Louise. “Let’s drop the idea of the burglar for the time being. Let’s hear about the family – your aunt Grace’s family, I mean.”
She reached into her pocket and took out a pencil and notebook, which she had provided for the purpose of writing down any items of clothing that Elsie might particularly want. Instead of that, she would list the possible suspects, the way her father usually did when he was working on a murder case.
“Go ahead,” she said. “I’m ready now. Tell me how many brothers and sisters your aunt Mattie had, and everything else you can.”
“Aunt Mattie had only two brothers, and not any sisters at all. My father was one brother, and Aunt Grace’s husband was the other. They’re both dead.”
“Then your aunt Grace isn’t your aunt Mattie’s real sister?” inquired Jane.
“No. But Aunt Mattie seems to like her better than any of her blood relations, even if she is only a sister-in-law. She comes over here pretty often.”
“Maybe she took the money.”
Elsie looked shocked.
“Not Aunt Grace! She’s too religious. Always going to church and talking about right and wrong. She even argued with Aunt Mattie to let me go to Sunday school, but Aunt Mattie wouldn’t buy me a decent dress.”
At the mention of clothing, Jane reached for the package they had carried with them to Dark Cedars, but Mary Louise shook her head, signalling her to wait until Elsie had finished.
“Well, anyway, Aunt Mattie’s father liked her better than her two brothers, and he promised to leave her his money if she wouldn’t get married while he was alive. And she didn’t, you know.”
“I guess nobody ever asked her,” remarked Jane bluntly.
“That’s what my mother used to say,” agreed Elsie. “She didn’t like Aunt Mattie, and Aunt Mattie hated her. So it’s no wonder I’m not welcome here!”
Mary Louise called Elsie back to her facts by tapping her pencil on her notebook.
“So far I have only one relative written down,” she said. “That’s your aunt Grace. Please go on.”
“As I told you, I think,” Elsie continued immediately, “Aunt Grace has three grown children. Two boys and a girl.”
“Names, please,” commanded Mary Louise in her most practical tone.
“John Grant, Harry Grant, and Mrs. Ellen Grant Pearson. The daughter is married.”
“How old are they?”
“All about forty, I guess. I don’t know. Middle-aged – no, I guess you wouldn’t call Harry middle-aged. He’s the youngest. Except, of course, the granddaughter – Mrs. Pearson’s only child. She’s a girl about eighteen or nineteen.”
“What’s her name?”
“Corinne – Corinne Pearson.”
“Is that everybody?” asked Mary Louise. “I mean, all the living relatives of Miss Mattie Grant?”
“Yes, that’s all.”
Mary