THE LOST FAN

The morning was half gone when the four chums finally awoke and felt the need of breakfast.

“Come on girls, let’s get up,” called Kit, as she sprang out of bed and ran from room to room to make sure that the girls were rising. “I’m going to be dressed first and go down and help Auntie Gibbs make the toast.”

But when Kit arrived in the kitchen she found the old lady singing at her work, and therefore in a happy mood. Her party had been a success and she felt a personal triumph. Breakfast was ready.

While the girls were eating, the door bell rang three times.

“There’s the mail! Oh Uncle Nat, is there a letter for me?”

“Of course, you know that without asking. Your Dad always writes and if he thinks a letter may not reach you, he sends a telegram.”

“Sure. Give it to me!” And Bet tore open the letter eagerly and read it.

“Oh Auntie Gibbs, come here this minute until I tell you something wonderful. Just think! Dad says the queen’s fan is worth a fortune. Somebody wants to buy it for a lot of money!”

“Oh, oh!” exclaimed the girls in one voice.

“You don’t say so! Isn’t that fine, now? Where is this queen and her fan?” asked Auntie Gibbs.

“It’s one of Dad’s antiques. I showed it to you.”

“Oh that! And you say it’s worth a fortune? Well, some folks spend money for foolishness, if you ask me.”

Bet paid no attention to Auntie Gibbs’ remarks. “Listen girls,” she said. “I’m to go down at once and put it in the safety deposit box. Dad’s got a cash offer for it. And he says it will save the estate.”

“What does he mean by that?” asked Kit. “Save the estate?”

“I hardly know. I’m really puzzled about that.”

“I didn’t know your father was having any business troubles, Bet, though I had noticed that he’d lost his appetite lately,” said Auntie Gibbs.

“I knew something was bothering him,” mused Bet, “but I never guessed it was about money or the estate. Poor Dad, and I wasn’t any comfort to him at all.”

“You’re always a comfort to your father, Bet,” protested the old lady.

“He dotes on you!” exclaimed Shirley.

“Oh, of course, I know that. Now I’m going to go right down to the bank and put that fan away.”

Bet hurried up stairs followed by the girls. “Get your hats and coats on and I’ll get the fan.”

Bet ran into her father’s room. She looked in the drawer where the fan should have been. She rummaged through the contents of the desk and fear seized her as she became certain the fan was missing.

“Are you almost ready, Bet? We’re waiting!” called Joy.

“We’ll all escort the queen’s fan to the bank,” laughed Kit.

“No, I’m not ready yet,” Bet replied with a strained voice. “Oh Auntie Gibbs, come here,” she called from the head of the stairs. “Did you see the fan? Phil left it on the desk.”

The old lady came hurriedly up stairs. “Why did Phil have it? I haven’t seen a thing of it.”

“Oh, I was terrible! I took the fan from the drawer and loaned it to Laura Sands to wear with her French costume.”

“What made you do such a thing, Bet? I’m surprised at you!”

“I just didn’t think. And oh dear, Dad won’t take that as any excuse! We must find it, Auntie Gibbs. We must!”

Everyone joined in the hunt with growing excitement, and the house was searched, even the attic. But the fan was gone.

“Maybe Phil didn’t put it on the desk, at all. He probably has it in his pocket and forgot all about it. Let’s call him on the phone and see what he says,” exclaimed Kit.

But Bet stopped suddenly: “Oh Auntie Gibbs, perhaps that was a robber that I thought I saw going out the window. Maybe he stole the fan!”

“Nonsense child, you are still nervous. Now quiet down and we’ll find the fan somewhere. We’ll call Phil, now,” soothed Auntie Gibbs.

Anxiously Bet called, but the boy was not home and Mrs. Gordon said casually that she would tell Phil to give them a ring when he came in. She had no idea that a lost fan was important.

Bet was quite indignant for a moment. “To hear her talk you’d think that it would be all right if he called next week.”

“But Mrs. Gordon doesn’t know anything about how valuable it is, Bet,” explained Kit. “You mustn’t blame her.”

“I know, of course, but I’m terribly worried.”

“I think the best thing to do is to telegraph your father at once,” suggested Uncle Nat.

“And that’s just what I can’t do. Dad has gone on a trip and he says he won’t have an address until the first of the week.”

“I’m going down to the village to find Phil and talk it over with him,” announced Kit decisively. “Let’s all go!”

The four girls walked all through the town but, though they hunted everywhere, they did not find Phil. Shirley and Joy went into Shirley’s Shop and sat there for an hour, hoping he might pass. But evening came and still Phil had not been home.

Bet was at supper when Phil Gordon called her at last. She was trembling as she said, “I must see you at once, Phil. Can you come up?”

Phil caught the note of worry in her voice and answered, “I’ll be there in an hour, Bet. Is that O.K.?”

“I wonder what’s the matter, son. Bet has called several times today,” said his mother.

“I can’t imagine what it is. I’ll get ready and go right away. If there is anything I can do for Bet, I’ll be glad to help. She’s one of the finest girls I know. She’s never silly, just out and out, and treats you as if she were another boy. I like that!”

Phil wasted no time on his supper. Even his mother urged him to hurry.

“I do hope nothing is wrong with Colonel Baxter, that would make Bet worry,” Mrs. Gordon said as Phil left her.

When Bet opened the door for Phil, he saw at once that something unusual was troubling her.

“Phil, I just had to see you. I can’t find that fan we had the other night. Do tell me just where you put it!”

“Why Bet, I put it right on your father’s desk, back toward the wall, so no one would knock it off. You know Laura was being so careless with it that I got worried and took it from her.”

“Are you positive you put it there, Phil?”

“Yes, Bet, of course I am.”

“Father sent me word to get it into the safety deposit at once. He’s had an offer for it. It’s worth a lot of money, and he needs money badly just now.”

“Why Bet, have you any idea what could have happened to it? Would anyone around here know about it and try to steal it when your father is away?”

“I don’t know. Dad seemed so anxious in his letter and instructed me so carefully about putting it away, that I think he must have been afraid of thieves. He said: ’Get it into the safety deposit box at once. It’s important! I trust you!’ And now I can’t find it. What shall I do?”

“You say you thought you heard someone in your father’s room after the party that night. Is there anyone who would know about the fan and come prowling around to get it?”

“I wish I knew that, Phil. Just now I can’t imagine what has happened to it.”

“I know what I’m going to do, Bet. I’m going to go down to the police office and talk to Chief Baldwin, tell him the whole story and ask his advice. I’ll do that at once. Enough time has been wasted.”

Phil was away before Bet could stop him, even if she had tried. And when Chief Baldwin heard only part of the story, he decided to hear the rest on the spot and returned to the Manor with Phil.

Chief Baldwin went over the whole house with Bet and Phil. In the attic he saw the footprints still on the floor, in the dust, and Uncle Nat told him of following the same marks in the snow, to the main road.

“Why didn’t you get me on the job, then, I’d like to know? Why did you delay?”

“We all thought it was one of the village boys who was not invited, and decided he’d try to break up the party.”

“Still, with Colonel Baxter away, you should have let me know at once. I sort of feel responsible and if anything happened to Bet when he was away I’m sure he’d blame me.”

In spite of her anxiety, Bet had to laugh. “You’re as bad as Auntie Gibbs. Her responsibility weighs heavily on her, and when Dad is out of town, she almost sets me crazy.”

“You see, Bet, we all think so highly of your father that we do not take any chances in displeasing him. Now about this fan! Who was the last person to have it?”

“I was,” answered Phil without hesitation. “I took it from Laura Sands because she was being careless, and I put it on Colonel Baxter’s desk in the den.”

“Have you asked Laura Sands about it?” inquired the Chief.

“Yes, and she says that Phil took it away from her.”

The Chief insisted on going over the rooms again carefully, but still the fan was not found.

“The best thing to do,” said Chief Baldwin, as he saw Bet’s troubled face, “is to put a good detective on the job. And we’ll find the queen’s fan, I promise you that.”

“When can you find it? Before Monday? Dad may be back on Monday.”

Everybody laughed. “Well Bet, that’s asking a little too much, even of the Chief, just when the fan will be found. But I give you my word, it will be recovered.”

Bet felt somewhat better after the optimistic talk with Chief Baldwin and for that night, at least, she laid aside her worries.

But Phil was not at all reassured by Chief Baldwin’s promise. He was unhappy and despondent as he told his mother the whole story from beginning to end.

“I’m terribly uncomfortable, because I was the last to handle it, Mother,” confided the boy. “Would anyone have imagined that such a thing could happen?”

“Are you sure you did return it? Perhaps it is in the pocket of your overcoat. I’m going to see,” and his mother left the room.

But Phil knew the fan was not there. And that night he was disturbed even in his dreams and woke at intervals with the feeling that all the troubles of the universe weighed him down.

The next morning he was again with Chief Baldwin and Amos Longworth, the detective, a tight-lipped stranger with narrow eyes, who had been chosen to look into the matter. Together they went to the Manor and looked over the rooms as before. Longworth examined the footprints in the dust and in the snow outside. “That’s some foot! I should think you’d be able to trace a man by that foot. It’s a whale!”

“And that’s why we thought it was someone masquerading. No one in our crowd has a foot that size.”

But if Phil was nervous and depressed over what had happened up to this time, he had reason to be still more concerned when the detective accompanied him home and began to question him privately. Before an hour had passed, Longworth had made him confess that he and his mother were very poor and that he might have to leave school to work. Also that he realized the fan was very valuable.

“Yes, I knew the fan was worth a lot of money. Colonel Baxter told us so. It’s painted by a famous French artist and was at one time the property of Marie Antoinette. It was given to her by Louis XV. That’s enough to make it very valuable.”

“You know all about it, I see. So you put it in your pocket?”

“No. I took it to the Colonel’s den, and put it on his desk.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Didn’t you feel any temptation to take it and sell it to get money?”

“No, sir, I did not! Such a thought never entered my head. It belonged to Colonel Baxter. He is my friend and I would not hurt him in any way or Bet either.”

Mrs. Gordon came in and was introduced and while she spoke of the theft of the fan and her unhappiness at Phil’s part in the matter, the detective did not again take an aggressive tone. Yet his narrow eyes showed suspicion.

Not being able to get word to her father, Bet brooded over the loss of the fan and it took all the ingenuity of her three friends to keep her cheerful. For the first time they found Bet inclined to be irritable.

“Now please don’t mind me, girls! I’m just worried almost sick. If Dad hadn’t added that last line about saving the estate, I wouldn’t feel so badly about it. I’m afraid he’s had some serious business trouble, and if anything happens to the fan through my carelessness, what shall I do?”

“Well, everything is being done that can be done, as far as I see,” said Joy, who was in no mood for dancing now that Bet was unhappy.

“But it’s such slow work! And being just a girl, I have to sit here twiddling my thumbs, not doing a single thing to find the fan,” exclaimed Bet indignantly.

“There ought to be some way in which we could help. Let’s try to think of something.” It was the quiet Shirley who spoke, and, coming from her, the suggestion seemed possible, for Shirley was always so well balanced in all her thoughts that the girls often looked to her when they had perplexities to overcome.

“There’s one thing sure, that fan didn’t just up and walk out by itself. Somebody took it out!” exclaimed Kit.

“And another thing that’s sure, is that it was on the desk, for Phil said he put it there,” said Bet emphatically.

“Maybe he just thought he did!” sighed Joy.

“No, we’ve gone into all that, Chief Baldwin, Mr. Longworth, Uncle Nat and everybody. There isn’t any question about it,” declared Bet. “Phil put the fan on the desk, I know he did!”

“Then, who took it?” demanded Shirley. “Who would know that it was valuable? And who would want it?”

“Say Shirley, if you ever get tired of photography and want a new job, you’d better be a detective,” laughed Kit. “Go on, ask some more questions and maybe we’ll hit on the right solution to the mystery.”

The girls laughed, but Kit added: “No fooling, girls! I know a woman in Arizona who trapped a cattle rustler all by herself, and if she did that, why can’t we find the fan?”

“That’s right. The Merriweather Girls should be able to find a clue. I’m sure Lady Betty would have done so in less than no time,” remarked Joy.

“Perhaps she would. I wonder,” said Bet sadly.