“It wouldn’t pay,” Betty put in, “for there’s nothing of value here that he could take away, and nothing in the desk that any one would want.” She stopped to examine it. “Why!” she cried in dismay. “It’s been sawed off, all the top part, and put back again. Look, Madeline!”
Sure enough, the top of the desk had been sawed off just below the drawers, and then cut into three sections, which had finally been laid in place again, so that at first sight the damage would not be noticed.
“The vandal!” cried Madeline. “He’s ruined our prize feature. And what was his idea? Oh, I see! He couldn’t find the springs, and this was his hateful way of getting into the secret drawers. Do let’s count them. Two—four—that’s all. Then there wasn’t another drawer filled with a king’s ransom in pearls for him to make off with. That’s certainly a relief.”
“Oh, Madeline, do tell us what you mean,” came with one voice from the crowd of wide-eyed girls; and with many promptings from Betty and Babbie Madeline told the story of the secret drawers through all its exciting stages, ending with her theory of the hidden jewels as a possible motive for all the queer robberies.
“But that was evidently a little too wonderful,” she added, “though for that matter the real explanation may be even more remarkable. I await suggestions.”
These came thick and fast, but the best one was from Christy Mason. “Those papers that Betty found are very likely to be what they want to decide the ownership of some big estate or valuable lands. Old wills and deeds are often very important. But why don’t they ask for them, instead of trying to steal them?”
Madeline stared. “That rubbish! Why I think I—— Well, it doesn’t matter, because the waste-basket is as safe as any other place while I’m away. When I packed to come up here I think I tossed them into it, but I’m perfectly sure I didn’t empty the basket. I never do till it overflows. I’ll rush off on the six ten to-morrow—no, this morning, and I’ll telegraph you, Betty; Dick will know, or father’s lawyer, if the papers are the prize package. Good-bye, all you dear old 19—’s.”
So 19—’s collective farewells were said amid wild excitement, and half the class waited over to be at the Tally-ho next morning when Madeline’s telegram was delivered: “Papers safe in waste-basket. Two thousand dollars reward.”
This was thrilling, but tantalizingly incomplete; 19— departed gaily with its half-loaf, having made Betty promise to indite a round robin to the class explaining the whole affair.
“For it’s very much our affair,” Christy declared. “And don’t you write until you can explain every single thing, Betty.”