DORIS FORCE
AT LOCKED GATES
Or
Saving a Mysterious Fortune

By
Julia K. Duncan

THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING CO.
CHICAGO NEW YORK

Copyright MCMXXXI
H. A. Co.
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS

Chapter Page [I A Queer Invitation] 5 [II A Friendly Note] 12 [III A Prospective Visit] 22 [IV An Aviation Meet] 28 [V Kitty Arrives] 35 [VI Locked Gates] 42 [VII A Strange Reception] 53 [VIII A Visitor] 59 [IX A Conversation Overheard] 66 [X Memories] 75 [XI A Sorrowful Romance] 82 [XII An Interlude] 91 [XIII An Important Request] 99 [XIV A Valuable Find] 108 [XV Questionable Characters] 118 [XVI A Pleasant Adventure] 125 [XVII A Dog’s Discovery] 135 [XVIII The Floor Above] 141 [XIX Under the Window] 149 [XX A Picnic] 154 [XXI An Unusual Procedure] 168 [XXII A Narrow Escape] 179 [XXIII An Accusation] 187 [XXIV Face to Face] 195 [XXV Vindication] 200

DORIS FORCE AT
LOCKED GATES

CHAPTER I
A QUEER INVITATION

“What are you waiting for, Doris? You’ve been hanging on that gatepost all afternoon.”

“Marshmallow” Mallow, a chubby, pleasant-faced youth flung away the core of an apple and came slowly down the walk toward the girl he had just addressed.

“Oh, I’m waiting for the postman,” Doris Force, an unusually pretty miss of sixteen, tossed carelessly over her shoulder as she continued to gaze down the street. “He just turned the corner.”

“Must be you’re expecting a very important letter,” Marshmallow drawled. “I’ll bet it’s from Dave!”

“Oh, go eat another apple!” Doris retorted goodnaturedly. “I’m looking for a letter from Kitty Norris, my chum at boarding school. I’m anxious to find out what she’s planning to do this vacation.”

“It’s sure going to be dull here at Chilton this summer.”

“I wish something exciting would turn up.”

“So do I, but nothing ever does.” Gloomily, Marshmallow thrust his hand into his coat pocket and brought out two candy bars. “Have one, Doris?”

“No, thanks. I don’t see how you can enjoy eating all the time! Why, if you keep on, you’ll land in the circus!”

Doris knew from past experience that her gibes would be accepted in the bantering spirit in which they were intended. She had known Marshall Mallow for a number of years, and, in fact, they had resided in the same house, for Doris’s uncle, Wardell Force, rented a suite of rooms from Marshall’s mother, Mrs. Thomas Mallow.

Though Doris and Marshall were as unlike as it was possible for two persons to be, they were the best of friends. Marshmallow, who answered to his given name only when his mother called, was liked by nearly everyone in the neighborhood, but he was subjected to a great deal of teasing because he was decidedly fat. He was a year older than Doris but frequently was mistaken as the younger of the two.

If Marshmallow were easy going and perhaps inclined to be a trifle lazy, Doris made up for his lack of energy. She was studious, and tremendously interested in athletics and music, particularly the latter. It was her ambitious dream that some day she would win fame as a singer in grand opera. Doris was utterly without vanity and would never admit that she was talented. As for her appearance, she never could understand why her friends were envious of her dark red curly hair and deep blue eyes.

“Here the mailman comes at last,” she sighed in relief, as she saw the man turn in at the house next door. “Oh, I do hope he has something for me.”

A moment later the postman stopped at the Mallow gate and began to look through a pack of letters.

“Here you are, young lady,” he said with a pleasant smile.

“Two!” Doris gasped in delight. “That’s better than I had hoped for.” Quickly, she scanned the postmarks. “And this one is from Kitty, too!”

Eagerly, she ripped open the envelope. The letter, written in an almost illegible scrawl, was brief, for Kitty Norris had never been a satisfactory correspondent.

“Kitty hasn’t made any plans for the summer yet,” she informed Marshmallow as she replaced the letter in the envelope. “She thinks it would be fun if we could go to some summer camp.”

“Well, why don’t you?”

“I wish I could—but there’s the problem of money.”

“Your uncle will give it to you. He thinks you’re just right and he couldn’t deny you anything.”

“Uncle Ward is a dear and he’s always given me everything I want, but I don’t like to ask for too much.”

“It’s your own money, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Uncle Ward has looked after my property ever since Mother and Father died, but the other day he told me he wanted to have a long talk with me about money. I guess I’ve been using it up dreadfully fast. Boarding school costs such a lot.”

“Well, it shouldn’t cost so much to go camping.”

“No, that’s so,” Doris agreed, more cheerfully. “I think I’ll ask him if I can’t go. Oh, dear, I don’t see why one has to worry about money all the time! I’d just be sick, if I found out I couldn’t go on with my music lessons. It would seem so funny to be poor!”

“I wouldn’t see anything funny about it,” Marshmallow said as he thoughtfully munched a candy bar.

“I didn’t really mean it would be funny,” Doris corrected. “I’ve always had the things I’ve needed and until Uncle Ward spoke to me the other day, it never occurred to me that I didn’t have a substantial income.”

Remembering that she had not read her second letter, she tore open the envelope and glanced curiously at the message. It was written in a fine but cramped hand, and Doris turned over at once to the signature.

“Azalea and Iris Gates,” she read aloud. “How very odd!”

“What’s odd?” Marshmallow demanded.

“Why, just listen to this letter:

“‘My dear Miss Force: We understand you are the only daughter of the late Louise Trent Force. We knew her a great many years ago, and now after many years of heartache over her older brother, John, we find a most unusual circumstance has arisen. Could you come to Rumson and visit our home in order to acquaint yourself with the present affairs pertaining to John Trent, your uncle? Very truly yours, Azalea and Iris Gates.’”

“You never told me you had an uncle by that name, Doris.”

“I didn’t know it myself, Marshmallow! This is all news to me!”

“Sort of queer they invite you down to their place at Rumson, isn’t it? A fellow would think they could write anything they wanted to tell you.”

“Perhaps this is only an excuse for something else,” Doris said, thoughtfully scanning the letter a second time. “What do you suppose they mean by saying they want to acquaint me with the present affairs pertaining to my uncle? I hope I’m going to inherit some money! I need it.”

“Fat chance,” Marshmallow grunted. “More ’n likely they’ll ask you for some.”

Doris did not reply, for just then a smart red roadster swung around the corner. It did not appear to be running smoothly and the driver, a man of perhaps thirty, dressed immaculately but in rather sporty attire, brought the car to a standstill not a half dozen yards from where Doris and Marshmallow were standing.

“Now what?” they heard him mutter angrily.

Doris and Marshmallow moved over toward the car, curious to learn what was wrong.

“Having trouble?” Marshmallow inquired pleasantly.

“What does it look like?” the stranger snapped crossly. “This car hasn’t run decently for the last fifteen miles!”

“Perhaps your gas line is plugged,” Marshmallow suggested, lifting the hood. “Yep, that’s just what it is. Give me a wire or something and I can fix it in a jiffy.”

“Gas line plugged?” the driver grumbled as he searched in the tool case. “That’s what I get for buying cheap gas at Rumson.”

Doris glanced up quickly.

“What do you know of Rumson?” she asked.

“Plenty.”

“Ever hear of people there named Gates?” Marshmallow questioned.

The driver gave him a sharp glance and muttered something which neither Doris nor Marshmallow could make out. To their surprise, he brushed past them and slammed down the hood. Then he sprang into the roadster and without a word of explanation started the motor and drove rapidly away.

CHAPTER II
A FRIENDLY NOTE

“Well, what do you know about that?” Marshmallow ejaculated, as he watched the red roadster vanish down the street. “I would have fixed his old gas line if he hadn’t been in such a rush. The big grouch! I hope it plugs up so badly he can’t keep going!”

“I don’t see what made him drive off in such a hurry,” Doris returned. “We just asked him if he knew any one by the name of Gates and he looked at us so suspiciously—or rather, I should say guardedly. I wish I knew where Rumson was. I’m beginning to get interested.”

“Let’s look it up on the map,” Marshmallow suggested. “There’s one in the house.”

They hurried up the walk toward the Mallow residence. It was a modern brick English type structure, located on a shady side street of Chilton in the suburbs of Plainfield, and was one of the most attractive houses in the city. The grounds were beautifully landscaped with silver-tipped evergreens, an abundance of rhododendrons and scarlet azaleas. The interior of the house was equally inviting, for Mrs. Mallow was noted as an excellent housekeeper.

Marshmallow found the road map in the desk and brought it out upon the porch. Doris spread it out between them and they pored over it.

“Here it is,” Marshmallow declared after a little search. “It can’t be more than fifty miles away. You take the Center Ridge road. It’s just a small town. You’d have a heck of a summer there.”

“It’s out in the direction Dave lives,” Doris remarked absently.

“Oh, sure, I forgot that!” Marshmallow drawled teasingly. “You’ll have a peach of a time.”

“And there’s an aviation field near Rumson,” Doris went on, scarcely noticing what her companion had said.

“That means Dave can fly down to see you every day or so. No wonder girls fall for fellows that are aviators!”

“Dave isn’t a full-fledged one yet,” Doris returned proudly, “but he’ll soon finish his flying course and then he expects to get a license.”

“Transport or marriage?” Marshmallow grinned.

“Oh, go chase yourself!” Doris retorted slangily.

Marshmallow got up from the porch and lazily stretched himself.

“I think I will,” he returned. “I can smell cookies baking in the kitchen, and I’ll just ankle around and coerce Mother into parting with a few dozen.”

After Marshmallow had gone inside, Doris continued to study the map for several minutes and then tossed it aside as she caught sight of her uncle coming up the walk. Eagerly, she ran to meet him.

“What have you in those packages?” she demanded.

“Oh, something nice for you.”

As he smiled indulgently down upon her, Doris could not but think how very fortunate she was to have such a generous and handsome uncle. Though Wardell Force was of middle age, with hair fast turning gray, he walked with the step of a boy and his energy was equal to that of any dozen average men. His voice was low pitched, but of singular quality which made one instinctively turn to listen when he spoke.

For many years he had conducted a successful drug store, but had retired from active business to follow his hobby of rescue mission work, welfare and charities. He was naturally a leader of men and in great demand to head committees and speak at important gatherings. Doris was proud of his ability to move large crowds with his magnetic voice. However, she sometimes felt that he was so engrossed in helping others that he neglected himself. Frequently, she had known him to go without a new suit of clothes that he might give the money to some deserving poor family.

“Uncle Ward, you’re always buying things for me,” she told him as she accepted the packages. “I don’t know why you’re so good to me.”

They sat down in the porch swing and Doris eagerly began to unwrap the parcels.

“Candy!” she exclaimed in delight. “And novelty jewelry, too. I can’t thank you enough!”

“Like the beads?” Uncle Ward asked. “I’m not much of a hand at picking out trinkets for the ladies. Thought they might be a little too conservative for a giddy red-head like you.”

“Pooh!” Doris scoffed. “I’m not giddy and you’re not conservative.”

Her uncle laughed and rumpled her curls. “Dory,” he began, the smile fading, “I’m afraid I shall have to leave you alone for a few days each week.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been named chairman of a committee to raise funds for fresh air camps and the campaign will be carried on all summer. That means I must go out of town frequently. We shall have to plan something nice for you to do during my absence.”

“Kitty Norris wants me to go camping with her. May I?”

A shadow passed over Wardell Force’s face.

“I have been intending to talk to you about the state of your finances for some time,” he said slowly, without answering her question.

Thoughtfully he stroked his hair, avoiding his niece’s eyes. How he hated to inform her that her funds were running low and that a camping trip was therefore inadvisable! Somehow, girls seemed to need a great deal of money.

“Don’t look so worried, Uncle Ward,” Doris said lightly, observing his preoccupation, and shrewdly guessing the thoughts which were passing through his mind. “I have news for you.”

Before she could tell him of the letter she had received from the Misses Gates, there was an unexpected interruption. Jake, the hired man whom Wardell Force had rescued from the slums many years before, came rushing up to the porch.

“There’s a plane going over,” he told Doris with a grin. “I’ll bet two cents it’s that boy friend of yours!”

For the first time, Doris became aware of the low hum of an airplane motor, and with her uncle following at a more dignified pace, rushed out into the yard.

“It is Dave!” she cried in delight, as she observed a bright red star on either wing of a monoplane which was heading directly toward the Mallow residence.

The plane rapidly approached, swinging so low that the observers on the ground could plainly see the intrepid young flier in the cockpit.

“You don’t suppose he can be having engine trouble?” Doris murmured anxiously. “I never saw him fly at such a low altitude before! Oh, I wish he wouldn’t take such risks!”

Her alarm was greater than that of either Jake or her uncle, but then, their interest in David Chamberlin was more impersonal. Doris had known the young aviator for several years and was well aware that his liking for her had steadily grown. However, since she was but sixteen and Dave only a few years older, her uncle refused to consider the affair as a serious one.

Wardell Force had looked after Doris with the interest and kindness of a father, and, as Mrs. Mallow frequently remarked, he had done very well for a bachelor. He had sent her to Barry Manor, a good boarding school, and had given her training by the best vocal teachers in the city. In some ways, Mr. Force had been overindulgent and he found it increasingly difficult to acquaint his niece with the stern fact that the few thousand dollars she had inherited were fast dwindling away.

Doris and her uncle made their home with Mrs. Thomas Mallow, renting a lovely upstairs suite, consisting of two bedrooms, bath and den. Mrs. Mallow, a plump and jolly widow noted for her ability as a cook, gave them their meals and was nearly as fond of Doris as she was of her own son. Doris was likewise a favorite of Jake, the hired man, though his devotion was expressed only by the way his eyes followed her whenever she was near. Wardell Force had told her little of what he knew concerning the man’s past, and since he had come to work at the Mallow residence he had been addressed only by the name of “Jake.” Though Doris was much too tactful to question him outright, she often had provided opportunity for him to tell the story of his life, but he had always seemed unwilling to offer any information.

“Oh, I do wish Dave wouldn’t try any stunts!” Doris exclaimed as she watched the monoplane slowly circle above the Mallow residence. “Why, he’s dropped something!”

As she spoke, she saw a piece of weighted paper fall from the plane. It struck the sidewalk a short distance away and before she could recover from her surprise, Jake had rushed to pick it up.

“Here you are, Miss Doris,” he said, handing it to her. “I ’spects it’s a love note.”

“If it is, it’s certainly a new way to get one!” Doris laughed.

Trying not to show her excitement, she quickly scanned the message. It read:

“Will stop in Saturday morning and take you to the big aviation meet in my roadster. Dave.”

The monoplane continued to circle at a low altitude and Doris, upon reading the note, promptly waved her handkerchief in token of assent. She watched until the plane had vanished toward the eastern horizon.

“Well, what was the meaning of all that pantomime?” Uncle Ward asked with an amused twinkle.

“Dave’s going to stop for me Saturday and take me to the aviation meet in his roadster. I’m thrilled to death! I was hoping he’d ask me, but I was afraid he wouldn’t!”

“So? Well, I’m glad he said roadster and not airplane,” Wardell Force grunted. “I don’t want you to go flying around with any student aviator.”

“Dave is nearly through his course now, Uncle Ward, and he’s considered the best of all those who are studying at the field.”

“That’s fine. And now that the excitement is over, we can get back to that discussion we were having. Perhaps we had better step into the den.”

Soberly, Doris followed her uncle into the house. She realized that the discussion was to center about money, and hoped that nothing would interfere with her plan to spend the summer with Kitty. Once they were settled in the comfortable den, she showed him the letter she had received from her chum.

“It shouldn’t cost very much just to spend a few weeks at a camp,” she declared. “I’m sure it isn’t a very expensive one.”

Wardell Force did not reply immediately, but sat looking at the rug. At last he said:

“I don’t like to deny you anything, Doris, but I’m afraid you don’t understand just how matters stand. Your carfare to this camp would cost considerable and of course you would need clothes.”

“Just knickers and sport things.”

“But they all cost money, Doris—a great deal more than you realize.”

“I thought my inheritance would cover everything.”

“Your money has been going very fast, my dear,” her uncle told her gently. “Your schooling has cost a great deal, and only today I received a letter saying that the tuition was to be doubled. Your music, too, has made deep inroads into your little fortune.”

“I had no idea it was as bad as that,” Doris said soberly. “I suppose I could give up boarding school and my music lessons—though I’d rather go to work than stop my singing.”

“I can’t let you give up your school or your music either, Dory. And I frankly admit, I hate to see you go into an office. You are much too young. You should have your good times now.”

“But if I haven’t any money—”

“You still have some, Dory. I am only telling you this, that you will understand the situation and be as careful of expenses as you can.”

“I will,” Doris promised, “and I’ll start by giving up that camping trip. I suppose, though, I won’t get to see Kitty this summer—unless—”

She broke off and her face lighted up.

“I forgot the letter I received from the Misses Gates!” she finished. “Perhaps they offer the solution to all my troubles!”

CHAPTER III
A PROSPECTIVE VISIT

Doris brought out the crumpled letter written by the Misses Gates which she had thrust carelessly into her pocket, and handed it to her uncle. Adjusting his glasses, he read it through and then sat thoughtfully stroking his hair.

“What do you think of it?” Doris demanded.

“Very strange indeed. But just how do you think this letter will help to solve your financial problems?”

“Why, I thought perhaps I am to inherit some money.”

Wardell Force folded the letter and returned it to his niece.

“I hope for your sake that you are right, but I would advise you not to build up your hopes.”

“Don’t you think I should go?”

“I scarcely know what to say, Doris. I recall that years ago your mother had an older brother who for some reason or other left home to travel. He was a young man at that time. To the best of my knowledge he was never heard of again.”

“How queer!”

“Yes, as I remember, the members of the family were unwilling to talk of the matter.”

“He didn’t leave because of some disgrace?”

“Not as far as anyone knew. His leave-taking was shrouded in mystery.”

“I never knew I had such an interesting relative!” Doris declared. “The Misses Gates must know more than that about him and I’m curious to learn what they may have to tell me. I wish I could go to Rumson and visit them this summer. May I?”

“You really think you would enjoy it?”

“Perhaps not, but it would be something to do. And then, of course there is a possibility that I am to inherit money. If only Kitty were going along, I know I’d have fun.”

“But I don’t know anything about these women you are invited to visit, Doris.”

“Oh, they must be nice,” Doris urged. “You can almost tell by their handwriting—it’s so refined.”

Uncle Ward smiled. When his niece’s mind was made up, he seldom could hold out against her.

“Very well,” he gave in reluctantly. “I suppose I must say you may go. Mind, I don’t feel entirely easy about it.”

“Rumson isn’t very far away, Uncle Ward, and nothing could happen to me. Besides, Dave lives out that way, and he can sort of keep an eye on me.”

“I don’t doubt but that he will do that, all right,” Mr. Force grunted. “I suspect he is your real reason for this trip.”

“Honestly, I never thought of that at first.”

“All right, run along.” He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Won’t you be late for your music lesson?”

Guiltily, Doris snatched up a roll of music she had dropped on the table and dashed into the bedroom for her hat. With a hasty kiss dropped on the top of her uncle’s head, she dashed for the door and clattered down the stairs two at a time.

Reaching the street, she ran all the way to the corner and there swung upon the rear end of a street car just as it was starting. Breathlessly, she dropped into the nearest seat and looked at her wrist watch.

“Ten minutes to four,” she told herself. “If this old car isn’t too poky, I’ll make it on time yet.”

Doris seldom was late for her vocal lessons, for her interest in music was genuine, and she realized that it was a privilege to be a student of the famed Herr Von Heflinger who accepted only the most promising pupils. On more than one occasion, Doris had become a trifle discouraged, for Von Heflinger was strict and offered criticism more freely than praise.

On this afternoon she reached the studio just as the clock was striking four and so avoided the displeasure of the master. Always blunt, he offered only a few words of greeting and seated himself at the piano, quickly arranging the music. Striking a few chords, he selected a difficult piece and bade Doris sing.

Somewhat disturbed by Von Heflinger’s austere manner, she began a trifle shakily, but before she had sung a dozen notes, she found herself. Soon she had forgotten her accompanist, had forgotten everything save the song. She sang brilliantly and with more feeling than ever before. Von Heflinger caught the spirit and his hands moved quickly over the keyboard, now running arpeggios, now crashing in loud chords or falling so softly that the tones were scarcely audible.

The last note of the song died away, and the master turned to Doris with an expression she had never seen on his face before.

“Ah, Miss Force,” he said, “you have the divine spark! You will go far! This summer you must study hard your French and German—and perhaps, who knows, you shall yet be presented in Grand Opera!”

Doris scarcely could believe her own ears, for she knew her teacher was not given to idle praise. Grand Opera! How she longed to become famous! She could almost see herself on the stage, taking her curtain calls, making her bows, accepting the flowers.

She was brought back to reality by hearing her teacher repeat, more sternly:

“This summer you must work—study hard your languages.”

The lesson went on, and at five o’clock Doris left the studio, still somewhat dazed at the thought of what might be ahead of her.

“I will work,” she told herself as she walked slowly toward the street car. “I’ll work night and day!”

Doris had always been one to make the most of her opportunities, and from childhood she had determined upon a career. Her sweet bell-like soprano voice had been inherited from her mother, but only training and diligent practice had developed its full power and volume. Doris’s ability and her willingness to help others had made her much in demand as a singer at teas, parties and entertainments.

Many girls would have been satisfied with such popularity, but not Doris Force. From the very start she had set her heart upon reaching the highest rung in the ladder.

“I must study my German and my French this summer,” she told herself, “and I really can’t do much by myself. I should have a teacher.”

This brought a cloud to her face, for she remembered the discussion she had just had with her uncle.

“Money!” she thought impatiently. “I need it so badly, and I don’t see where it is coming from unless it turns out that I am to inherit it from my Uncle John Trent.”

CHAPTER IV
AN AVIATION MEET

By Saturday, when David Chamberlin called to take Doris to the aviation meet, her financial troubles were temporarily forgotten. She was not given to worrying unnecessarily, and on this day nothing could have interfered with her fun.

As Doris stepped into the trim little roadster, Dave cast her an admiring glance, noting that she was dressed in a white sports costume which set off her red hair to startling advantage. They made an excellent pair. Dave was dark, tall, straight as a cadet, and considered handsome by all of Doris’s friends.

“You gave me a dreadful fright when you flew so low over our house,” Doris told him as they drove swiftly toward the aviation field, which was located some distance from Chilton.

“Did I? Sorry, but I just had to drop that note.” Dave smiled down upon her. “Anyway, you forget that I’m getting to be an expert at handling the joy-stick. I want to take you up one of these days.”

“Oh, I’m crazy to fly with you! Perhaps Uncle Ward won’t let me, though.”

“We can talk him around to it.”

As they approached the aviation field, they were forced to proceed at a slow rate, for the highway was jammed with cars.

Entering the gateway, they parked the roadster and then wandered about the field, inspecting the various planes. Dave explained a great deal about the distinguishing characteristics of the various models and introduced her to a number of aviators with whom he was acquainted. As the time approached for the meet to begin, they sought their seats in the improvised grandstand.

Presently the master of ceremonies announced through the loud speakers that the opening event would be an inside loop contest. A hush of expectancy fell over the crowd as two planes zoomed up from the field and immediately began to cut vertical circles in the sky.

“It looks so easy, doesn’t it?” Doris murmured.

“Yes, but believe me, it isn’t!” Dave assured her, without taking his eyes from the two planes. “If I could only do that!”

“I’m just as glad you can’t, Dave. I’d be afraid to have you.”

Following the inside loop contest, a squadron of army planes took to the air and thrilled the spectators with a spectacular exhibition of formation flying. Then came parachute jumping, dead-stick landings, and exciting races. Doris found it impossible to restrain her excitement as the planes rounded the pylons, frequently banking to such an angle that it seemed disaster could not be avoided.

As a climax to the meet the master of ceremonies announced that an intrepid young flier would entertain the crowd with daring stunts. Doris and Dave saw a brilliant red monoplane take off from the field and climb to an altitude of several thousand feet. Then, in quick succession, the red plane went through barrel-rolls, loops, dives, falling leaves, and wing-overs.

“That boy’s good!” Dave exclaimed in admiration.

The words were scarcely spoken when Doris gave a startled little cry. It had seemed to her that, as the monoplane came out of a loop, something was wrong. The plane seemed to waver, and then, to Doris’s terror, shot down in a tailspin.

“It’s all in the stunt,” Dave assured her. “The pilot’s just—” he broke off and a look of horror came into his own eyes as he saw that the man at the stick was fighting desperately for control.

The spectators, suddenly made aware of the impending disaster, sprang as one man to their feet and cried out in fright. Women and children covered their faces.

The plucky aviator had not given up. Struggling frantically at the controls he refused to take to his parachute and, only a short distance above the field, brought the plane out of the spin. However, he had scant time to alter the course, and to those on the ground it was apparent that in landing he would overshoot the designated area, which was roped off.

Those who were not in the grandstand scattered in all directions, and timid women screamed in terror. Doris and Dave had instinctively arisen, but no sound escaped them. It appeared almost certain that the plane would hit a group of parked cars near the fence.

Just at the critical moment, however, the pilot managed to turn the monoplane enough to miss the row of cars. As a wild cheer of admiration and relief arose from the spectators, he brought the craft to rest without mishap.

Instantly, a crowd of people swarmed about the plane. The pilot tried to keep them back, but it appeared almost certain that before policemen could reach the scene, someone would be pushed into the whirling propeller.

Doris and Dave were seated not far from where the mishap had occurred, and now, with the intention of trying to help, they rushed toward the plane. Before they could reach the spot, the pilot had switched off the engine. The crowd continued to press about the plane, careless of the damage they might do to wings or struts.

“Get back!” Dave shouted, helping the policemen and some mechanics to control the throng.

Nearly everyone goodnaturedly backed away from the monoplane, but one man refused to budge.

“That plane nearly struck my car!” he shouted angrily. “Let me get at that pilot! I’ll show him a thing or two!”

Startled, Doris turned to look at the man and was astonished to see that it was the driver who had been stalled in front of the Mallow residence only a few days before.

“Say, who does that fellow think he is, anyway?” Dave murmured impatiently. “His old car wasn’t touched! If that pilot hadn’t done some quick thinking, someone would have been killed sure!”

They watched as a policeman remonstrated with him, and were disgusted at his sullen remarks. After he had vented his spite sufficiently, he sprang into his roadster and backed out of the parking place so rapidly that women and children were forced to scurry to escape the wheels.

“He didn’t care much whether he struck anyone or not!” Doris declared. “That man is positively vicious.”

After the excitement had died down, she and Dave went to their own roadster. There was a bad traffic jam and it was some time before they reached the gate.

“It certainly was a thrilling day,” Doris told her friend when they were on the highway. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

“Glad you liked it,” Dave returned. “Next year I hope to take part myself.”

“The best part of it was that no one was injured,” Doris continued. “It would have ruined the entire meet if there had been a serious accident there at the last.”

They drove along in silence for some time, but as they approached the Mallow residence, she broached the subject which had been troubling her.

“Dave, you’ve frequently been to Rumson, haven’t you?” she began indirectly.

“Sure, why?”

“I’ve been invited to visit there this summer. Do you think I’d like it?”

“Well, it’s a pretty decent town for its size. Whom are you visiting?”

“Two sisters by the name of Gates. Azalea and Iris Gates. Did you ever hear of them?”

“Gates? Let me think. Oh, sure, I remember their place. It’s right at the edge of town.”

“What kind of a house have they?”

“Oh, it’s as big as a barn. Old and rambling. It seems to be a sort of mysterious place.”

“Mysterious?”

“I don’t know anything about it myself, except that I’ve heard folks say there is something queer about it. The neighbors call it ‘Locked Gates.’”

“Why that name?”

“I suppose it’s because the double front gates are always kept locked. A fence surrounds the garden, and vines grow so thick on it you can’t get a glimpse inside. Take my advice, Doris, and don’t go there for a visit. It would give you the creeps!”

CHAPTER V
KITTY ARRIVES

What Dave had told her about the old Gates place in Rumson did not discourage Doris. If anything, it made her more eager to spend a few weeks at Locked Gates, for the thought of mystery was indeed very intriguing.

Unfortunately for her plans, she chanced to repeat to her uncle what Dave had said, and that worthy at once began to regard the proposed visit with misgiving.

“I’m not sure I should let you go,” he told her doubtfully. “There’s something funny about this whole affair. Don’t you think you had better give up the trip?”

“Uncle Ward, you said I could go,” Doris moaned. “Don’t change your mind now. There probably isn’t anything mysterious about the place anyway—Dave was just talking.”

“I think I shall do a little investigating of my own,” her uncle returned gravely.

He had already learned through a former business associate that the Misses Gates were well thought of in Rumson, but that of late years they had kept close to their own premises. Recalling that Jake had at one time worked in Rumson, Wardell Force sauntered out into the garden where he was weeding the flowers.

“Well, Jake,” he began, “how are your posies doing?”

The hired man straightened and regarded Mr. Force with a delighted smile.

“First rate, sir,” he answered. “First rate! Miss Doris’s roses goin’ to be in bloom inside of another week.”

Jake’s hobby was gardening, and he was never more satisfied than when at work with the flowers. The sun and wind had tanned his wrinkled face but it had brought a glow of health which had not been there when Wardell Force had first brought him to Chilton. At that time Jake had been broken in body and in spirit, but fresh air, good food and kindness had made a new man of him. His hair, which was streaked with gray, seldom was combed, and his garments usually bore the stamp of his work. He walked with a noticeable stoop.

Jake was a rather silent man and seldom spoke unless addressed. He kept to himself and when not working about the grounds usually stayed alone in his room. Seemingly, he lived only for the present, as he never mentioned the past and took the future for granted. Of his devotion to Wardell Force and Doris, there was not the slightest question.

“Jake, you used to work in Rumson before you came here, didn’t you?” Mr. Force questioned.

“Yes, sir.” Jake avoided the other’s eyes. Any reference to his past usually caused him to withdraw into his shell, but with Wardell Force he was more free.

“Do you remember a Gates house there, Jake?”

“Yes, sir, I remember the place well. A gloomy house it was, sir. Many a night I had to pass it after dark, and it sort of gave me the creeps.”

“I didn’t think anything could give you the creeps,” Mr. Force said with an understanding smile.

“Neither did I, sir, but that house—you never saw a soul enter or leave. Folks said the gates had rusted shut. But why are you askin’, Mr. Force?”

“Doris was thinking of going there for a short visit.”

Jake shook his head as he picked up the rake.

“I’m not aimin’ to advise you, sir, but if ’twere me, I’d not let her go there alone.”

“I think perhaps you are right, Jake,” Wardell Force returned thoughtfully as he turned away. “I’ll have another talk with Doris and see if I can’t get her out of the notion of going.”

Returning to the house, he found his niece in the den studying German. She put aside her book at once as he came over to her, but her face clouded at mention of the visit.

“I’ll give it up if you’re so worried, but I don’t see any reason for not going. The Misses Gates are probably just two dear old ladies who like privacy, and the neighbors are inclined to gossip.”

“I see you have set your heart upon going,” Mr. Force sighed.

“Then you will let me go?”

“Upon one condition.”

“And what is that?”

“That you get some one to go with you.”

“I know just the person, Uncle Ward. Kitty Norris will be crazy to go!”

“You’re both crazy to go,” Mr. Force returned with a different inflection.

Doris, highly pleased at her latest idea, sprang up and rushed to the desk. It took her only a few minutes to compose a letter to her chum, and having finished it, she rushed off to the corner mail box, fearful lest her uncle change his mind again.

The next three days she waited in a tremor of excitement for a response. On the fourth day the postman brought the letter from Kitty. It was brief but very much to the point.

“Dear Dory:” it read. “Will I come? I’ll jump at the chance! Here’s to a high old time at Locked Gates, and may we discover when they were locked and why! Meet me Wednesday on the 4:40 train. Yours, Kitty.”

It was already Monday and that left only two days before Kitty’s arrival. Doris flew about putting the suite in order and spent a great deal of time getting her clothes ready to pack. The problem was made somewhat difficult due to the fact that she did not know what sort of reception awaited her.

“I don’t know whether they’ll give any parties or not,” she told herself, “but my guess is they won’t. I’ll take a chance on it and leave my evening gown at home.”

Late Wednesday afternoon, Doris and her uncle drove to the station to meet Kitty. She was nearly the last one off the train and Doris was beginning to think she had not come, when she caught sight of her in the crowd.

The girls exchanged enthusiastic hugs and fell to jabbering as excitedly as two magpies, or at least so it seemed to Uncle Ward, who was quite ignored until Doris recalled that she had failed to introduce him.

“I feel as though I know you already,” he told Kitty with his genial smile. “Doris has talked about you almost continually.”

He placed her suitcase in the back of the coupé, and the girls squeezed in beside him on the front seat. As they drove toward home, Doris told her chum more about Locked Gates and the reason why she had planned the trip.

Though not as pretty as Doris, Kitty had a charming personality and was one of the most popular girls at Barry Manor. She was very talkative and always ready for a good time. If she excelled in basketball and tennis rather than in French and English, it was not because of lack of ability, but rather because she could never find the time to study. At Barry Manor her room had always been the gathering place for friends and the scene of many tea parties.

“I’m so excited about this place we’re going to,” she told Doris. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow, if that isn’t rushing you off too soon. Uncle Ward is going out of town to raise money for some charity—”

“A little hot air for a fresh air fund,” Mr. Force interposed. “A speech at the Rotary Club, one at the church, and one at the Chamber of Commerce. That’s the opening day’s program and it will be about the same for the next month.”

“Unless we leave for Locked Gates tomorrow, we’ll be left here by ourselves,” Doris explained.

“Let’s go, by all means.”

“I thought you would want to start right away. Dave said he would take us down in his roadster.”

“We’ll have a wonderful time, too!” Kitty declared enthusiastically.

Doris nodded in agreement. In spite of what Dave and Jake had said concerning Locked Gates, she little dreamed of the adventure that lay before her.

“I just hope we have a real interesting session at this place,” continued Kitty gleefully, “something to tell the sorority about when we return to school in the fall. Just fancy the crowd gathered around us while we tell in a solemn voice the mysteries of Locked Gates. I really hope something exciting does happen to us, Dory,” she exulted, as the roadster swung around the corner, throwing her little hat a bit more rakishly over one eye. “I’ll be disappointed if it doesn’t.”

“Kitty, you are very brave just at present. Be sure to keep up your present demeanor as we go forth on our big adventure,” admonished Doris Force thoughtfully.

CHAPTER VI
LOCKED GATES

Kitty Norris had always been popular at school, for she had a charming way of fitting into things. Before she had been in Chilton an hour she felt perfectly acquainted with Wardell Force, Mrs. Mallow, Marshmallow and even Jake. Marshmallow in particular took an immediate liking to her and tried to monopolize her time.

“You know,” Kitty admitted that night, after the girls had gone to their room, “I sort of like Marshall. He’s so jolly.”

“I thought you were quite taken by him,” Doris laughed. “It’s plain to see Marshmallow has taken a distinct liking to you.”

“Doris Force!”

“Well, he has. Too bad he’s so fat.”

“He is a little stout,” Kitty admitted.

“Stout!” Doris teased. “How you have fallen!”

“Well, then I guess we’re even,” Kitty retorted. “You and Dave—”

“We’d better be tumbling into bed,” Doris interposed hastily, “or we won’t be rested for our trip tomorrow to Locked Gates.”

Shortly after eleven o’clock the following morning, David Chamberlin called for the girls. Wardell Force had of necessity taken an early train out of the city, so there were only Jake, Marshmallow and his mother to see them off.

“Wish I were going,” the plump youth murmured enviously. “Still, I have a sneaking notion it won’t be as jolly as you think down there at Locked Gates.”

“Then we’ll liven the place up,” Doris declared lightly.

Dave drove rather slowly, for neither he nor the girls were eager to reach Rumson before the middle of the afternoon. Doris and Kitty had gone to great pains to prepare and pack a dainty lunch and the three planned to stop some place along the road for a picnic.

The day was unpleasantly warm and sultry. As they took the main highway leading to Rumson, Doris glanced anxiously at the scattered clouds which were to be seen overhead.

“I hope it doesn’t rain and spoil our picnic,” she said.

“Oh, I don’t think it will,” Dave replied. “The sky is almost clear.”

It was true that the sun was shining brightly, but the sky had a dull appearance which Doris did not like. However, as they motored along enjoying the scenery, she forgot the matter completely.

“I’m beginning to get hungry,” Dave announced as it approached noon. “We may as well begin to look for a good place to stop.”

Presently, Doris caught sight of an attractive grove of trees ahead.

“That’s just the spot!” she declared. “Cool and shady and not too close to the road.”

Dave parked the roadster just off the highway and they took the hamper over to the grove.

“This is a dandy place,” Kitty approved. “I believe there’s a spring back there among the rocks.”

Dave had been gazing thoughtfully toward a sign.

“I’m not sure that we should have stopped here,” he said.

“Why not?” Doris demanded quickly.

“We seem to have camped pretty close to the entrance to the Glenville Roadhouse. However, we’re not on their property.”

“What difference does it make?” Kitty asked innocently.

“Well—” Dave hesitated. “This roadhouse doesn’t have much of a reputation, so I’ve been told.”