THE REWARD

Colonel Baxter was not very sure that they would ever be able to prove who stole the fan. He confided that much to Bet at lunch time, when he returned from Hermit’s Hut.

The girl looked relieved. “I almost wish you wouldn’t. Let’s drop it. Did you get Shirley’s camera, Dad? Oh I do hope she got a wild animal picture!”

“Tell Shirley that the trap was sprung, and the flash powder had gone off, and it is almost certain to have been a deer. Ask her to come to the shop right after school and I’ll bring the camera down.”

“Won’t she be happy!” Bet squealed with delight.

The school room clock had never ticked off its minutes so slowly as it did that afternoon; each minute seemed like an hour to the excited girls whose minds were centered on Shirley’s luck. Deer got all mixed up with their history lessons and Miss Elder cast reproving glances more than once at the Merriweather Girls who were finding it so hard to settle to work.

In her heart she didn’t blame them. Vacation was such a glorious time for fun and she knew the girls’ capacity for getting the most joy out of everything in life.

She thought: “The darlings! And I have to be the one to order them back to their books!”

At five minutes to three, Bet bent her head over her book, declaring that she would not look at the clock again until it was three. Then, when she was certain that the minute hand must be pointing to twelve, she looked up and gave a gasp. Only one minute had gone by! How the time dragged!

But at last the welcome sound of dismissal bell did come and the girls were free. They ran all the way to the shop.

“It’s a good thing I carry my key with me, or we would have lost about ten minutes,” said Shirley and she unlocked the door and let the girls in.

Shirley made a dive toward the dark room.

“What are you going to do now?” asked Joy.

“I’ll get everything ready in here to develop the plate; just as soon as Colonel Baxter comes.”

At exactly quarter past three Bet’s father arrived, bearing Shirley’s camera as if it were the queen’s fan itself.

“Here’s your deer, Shirley. Put him in the bath and let’s have a look at him. I’m first!”

“You’ve earned that right,” Shirley answered.

“All right! No one must come near until I call.” He and Shirley disappeared behind the curtained doorway and silence settled over the group as Shirley developed the negative.

After much waiting and eager straining of ears, the girls caught a startled cry from Shirley. They crowded into the dark room, as Shirley said impatiently:

“Oh Colonel Baxter, it isn’t a deer at all! Isn’t that mean? Look here! Oh, I won’t go on with it, I’ll smash the old thing!” and Shirley made as if to throw the plate into the discard.

Colonel Baxter caught her arm in time to save it. “Hold on there, Shirley. That plate may be worth more to you than the prize contest would bring. Finish developing it.”

“What is it?” cried Bet. “Do let us see!” and the three girls crowded closer.

“What’s all the excitement about? What are the Merriweather Girls doing now?” asked Bob Evans as he and Phil Gordon came into Shirley’s Shop and followed the girls to the dark room.

“Ssh! Bob! We think Shirley’s got a picture of a deer or some other wild animal. Keep quiet.”

“Yes, keep quiet Phil!” laughed Bob. “The wild animal might get excited and run.”

Everything in the dark room was quiet as Shirley developed the plate. Colonel Baxter and the girls pressed closer together to let the boys crowd in.

“Why Dad, it isn’t a deer at all, it’s a man!” exclaimed Bet as she stood looking over Shirley’s shoulder.

“I suspected as much, but we want to know who the man is.”

“Oh Dad....” Bet left the sentence unfinished. She edged close to her father and held his hand. Her own felt cold and clammy while her face burned. She did not dare to turn toward Phil, whose face showed dimly in the red glow.

“I’m so disappointed!” exclaimed Shirley. “I could just weep!”

“Who is it?” asked Phil.

The Colonel answered quietly: “If I am not mistaken, it’s the man who stole the fan.”

“Then let me nearer. I think I have first right, don’t you, Colonel?”

“You have, Phil!” Colonel Baxter made room for the boy to pass.

“Why I see!” cried Shirley. “It’s somebody sneaking into Hermit’s Hut.”

“Who is it? Tell me Shirley!” exclaimed Kit.

“It it looks like old Peter Gruff! It is! No mistake!”

“There, didn’t I tell you all along there was something suspicious about that old man!” Kit was jubilant. “He’s slinking back to find the fan.”

“Well that clears you, Phil. Not even Edith Whalen can cast slurring remarks at you now,” said Bob.

“I’m glad to be free of this suspicion, but I’m sorry for that old rascal, too.”

“I wouldn’t waste any sympathy on him,” remarked Joy Evans vindictively. “He let people believe you had done it and helped along the suspicion by saying that you had tried to sell him a fan. I hope he goes to jail!”

Colonel Baxter spoke: “Now come on out and let Shirley finish it up. Could you get a good print by this evening? The plate would do, but we’d like to have a clear print to show the old fellow. I’ll go down and see Chief Baldwin now.”

“I’ll have it ready at eight o’clock!” answered Shirley from the dark room.

It was in the back room of Shirley’s Shop where Chief Baldwin brought old Peter Gruff, confronted him with the picture and accused him of stealing the fan.

“I steal Colonel Baxter’s fan!” he exclaimed violently. “Why should I take the fan when I have enough of my own?”

“That is the question I am asking you. Now, Peter, confess and get it over with. If you do not tell us everything, I’ll send this picture to the New York police and get your record. Maybe there is another picture of you in the Rogues Gallery!”

The old man started excitedly. “No, no, don’t do that!” he cried. Then feeling that he had given himself away, added, “I don’t like policemen; they ask too many questions. I have done nothing. I’m an old man and don’t want to be disturbed.”

“All right, Peter, out with the story! If you say you stole the fan, we’ll go easy with you. That is, if you confess. The girls have asked me not to be too hard on you.”

“Those girls!” exclaimed Peter Gruff, throwing his hands up in dismay. “They come and they come and they look into every corner of the shop! They are a nuisance!”

The Chief laughed heartily. “All right Peter, now why did you take the fan?”

“I wouldn’t steal the fan,” began Peter Gruff, but Chief Baldwin rose.

“All right, we’ll get the city police on the job and it will likely mean a long term in prison for you.”

At the word “prison,” Peter Gruff jumped to his feet. “No, no, Chief, not that! I’ll tell.” And with the helpful questioning of the Chief, the old man blurted out his story. It began with the night of the party. He had looked for the fan in the attic. It was his footprints in the dust and the snow.

“How could that be?” laughed Chief Baldwin, looking at the tiny foot of the old man. “Those feet were big.”

Peter hesitated a moment then continued: “I put on big shoes so they’d think a big man did it.”

He owned that he had slipped back into the house and had been seen by some of the young people. Finally he had hidden away in a closet and waited until the party was over. When he thought everyone was asleep he had crept into Colonel Baxter’s study and stolen the fan, and later he had hidden it in Hermit’s Hut.

“But why did you hide it away out there?” asked the Chief.

“I didn’t think anybody would go out there in the winter. Nobody ever does. But those girls! They go everywhere! I thought I would leave the fan there until people had forgotten it. It was a good hiding place.”

“But as usual when a man does something wrong, he gets found out! The girls were too smart for you!” answered the Chief. “Why did you want the fan? Tell me that.”

“I had a big offer from a dealer in Paris. That dealer told me it was owned by someone in Lynnwood, he didn’t know who. But I knew that Colonel Baxter would be the only person who could have it. So I got it.”

“If I had my way,” said Chief Baldwin sternly, “I’d put you in jail and keep you there a long time. But Colonel Baxter is kind and is willing to give you another chance. So let this be a lesson to you to go straight.”

The old man seemed to have shrunk to half his size as he rose and followed the Chief out of the door. In the outside room he met Colonel Baxter. “I’m sorry,” he said and was gone, but whether he was sorry he had done wrong or sorry he had been caught was doubtful.

“So that solves the Mystery of the Queen’s Fan,” said Colonel Baxter as the young people came into the shop a few moments later. “Old Peter has confessed.”

“Colonel Baxter, you don’t know what a relief it is,” cried Phil. “I got so nervous, being shadowed all the time, that sometimes I wondered if I had stolen it.” Phil laughed in a strained manner. “It’s a great relief. You know, half the time, I think the girls believed I was guilty.”

“Why Phil Gordon! What an idea!” exclaimed Kit Patten. “We all stood by you to a man! Every single moment you were backed by the Merriweather Girls! And you know it!”

“Yes, I guess I do. You are friends worth having, but it all looked so bad for me that I wouldn’t have blamed you in the least.”

“We didn’t doubt you for a single minute!” exclaimed Shirley.

“You should have heard Bet defending you to that dumb detective, Amos Longworth!” cried Joy.

Bet could laugh now as she recalled the conversation. Her relief was great, especially as Colonel Baxter had plead for Peter Gruff and he was to go free, on the promise that he would leave the village and never come back.

As the group left the shop, Bet caught Phil by the arm.

“Phil, I must talk to you alone.”

“All right. Let the others go on,” suggested the boy. “We’ll walk slowly.”

Colonel Baxter turned and saw his daughter and knew that she was making a clean breast of her suspicions against her friend. He smiled and spoke to the other girls. “Come on Kit, we’ll take you home first. You’re the nearest!”

When a short distance was between them, Bet suddenly caught Phil’s arm. “Phil, I must tell you that, since Saturday when I found the fan, I thought you had taken it.”

Phil stopped short. The color had left his face. “Bet! How could you!” There was a real hurt in his voice. “I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I did, Phil. When I finally showed Dad the evidence against you I made him promise not to believe that you did it, even when things looked bad.”

“But what was the evidence against me, Bet? I don’t understand.”

“The fan was wrapped in your handkerchief!”

“Of course it was. I forgot that until this minute. I was afraid the fan would get dirty so I wrapped it in my handkerchief.”

“And Phil, I’d have known it was that way, if I hadn’t been so terribly worried.”

“How did the other girls feel about it when you told them?”

“Oh I wouldn’t tell them. I hid the handkerchief. No one knows about it except me and Dad.”

“Bet, you’re a sport! I like you! Now, forget that you ever blamed me, and don’t feel badly about it.”

They hurried ahead to catch up with the others and all met at Kit’s gate.

“Isn’t it a wonderful night!” Bet exclaimed suddenly, looking up into the sky. “Why, I never saw so many stars before! They fairly sing!”

“The singing is in the heart of the Merriweather Girls who have saved the Manor from being sold and have also saved the reputation of their good friend,” suggested Colonel Baxter.

“It’s good to be alive!” cried Phil.

Then the Colonel hesitated a moment. “You know I am going to reward the Merriweather girls for finding the queen’s fan.”

“Hooray!” shouted Bet. “What’s the reward?”

“We don’t need any reward! We’re glad we got the fan and found the thief,” said Shirley, and Kit and Joy agreed with her.

“I was thinking I’d like to send Bet and her chums to a mountain camp for the summer. What is that place I investigated last year, that sounded so attractive? What was the name of it?”

“Do you mean, Campers’ Trail? Oh Dad, do you mean it?”

“Yes! I’ll invite all of you to go to that camp for the summer.”

“The Merriweather Girls on Campers’ Trail,” laughed Bet heartily. “Doesn’t that sound like a jolly story!”

“We can have fun there and ride horses over the hills!” Bet shouted happily.

“We’ll fill it full of adventure!” exclaimed Joy.

“And love, loyalty and helpfulness!” said Shirley quietly.

“Then yo-ho-ho for Campers’ Trail!” they chanted in a gay chorus.