“If I may say something,” put in the hotelkeeper, looking straight at the detective, “I think you’re on the wrong track. Adams is guilty of a small theft—he stole two hundred dollars from me, and he left some gambling debts. That’s why he’s running away. But I believe your real criminal is right here at Shady Nook!”
“Who?” demanded all the detectives at once.
“Ditmar. Horace Ditmar. These fires have proved to be a good thing for him. Ditmars took over all that boarding-house trade after Flicks’ Inn burned down. Mary Louise was on the inside, so they were probably afraid she’d find out too much—and—disposed of her.”
“I don’t believe a word of it!” cried Mrs. Gay angrily. “I’d trust both Adelaide and Horace anywhere. And how about that threat they got? You saw that?” she asked the detectives.
“That was just a clever trick,” explained Frazier lightly, “to throw off suspicion. You notice it has not been carried out!”
Almost in hysterics, Mrs. Gay felt that she could not bear those dreadful Fraziers another minute. Desperately she clung to her husband’s arm for support.
“Will you men come inside?” suggested Mr. Gay, realizing how his wife was suffering. “Good-night, Mrs. Frazier. Good-night, Frazier.”
And so another long night passed without any news of Mary Louise. But it was not so terrible for Mrs. Gay as the first one, because her husband was with her. And Max Miller and Norman Wilder comforted her with the assurance that they were going to find Mary Louise the following day.
Somehow, by intuition, perhaps, Mrs. Gay believed them!