Chapter 9 A CONVERSATION OVERHEARD

The Misses Gates escorted Ronald Trent to the living room, forgetting in their excitement that supper had not been finished. Doris and Kitty were too polite to mention that they had not had their dessert.

"You girlies get prettier every day," the man gushed, playfully straightening Iris's lace collar and slyly giving Azalea's hand a squeeze.

Iris giggled, and her sister cast down her eyes in confusion. Ronald Trent winked at Doris and Kitty as much as to say: "How easy they fall!"

Iris and Azalea, unaware that they were appearing in a slightly ridiculous light, continued to beam and to blush, listening intently to every word Ronald Trent said, and laughing at everything which might be remotely interpreted as a joke. Doris was completely disgusted at the way the man was acting, and when he tried to cajole her into a more friendly attitude, she could not hide her indifference. Azalea and Iris did not notice how quiet she was, but Ronald Trent was aware of her attitude and frowned slightly.

"What's the matter, girlie?" he teased.

"Nothing," Doris returned quietly.

She felt that if he continued to plague her she surely would disgrace herself by saying something which would offend the Gates sisters. How could they like such a man? He was cheap and coarse and obviously insincere.

"Poor things," she told herself. "They haven't had much attention from men and it flatters them."

The tension was somewhat relieved when Iris asked Kitty if she could sing or play the piano.

"I'm not in the least musical," Kitty returned, "but Doris sings beautifully."

Upon being urged to entertain the group, Doris obediently went to the piano. After looking over the music she selected a familiar piece, struck a few chords, and began to sing. A hush fell over the group, and even Ronald Trent, who was talking to Iris, became quiet.

"Lovely," Azalea murmured when she had finished. "You have a wonderful voice."

"Pretty keen," Ronald Trent agreed, "but can't you sing something livelier? I don't like them church hymns."

"You call those songs church hymns?" Doris asked with an amused smile. "Really, if you want popular music, I can't oblige you. My teacher permits me to sing only classical."

After she had left the piano, Ronald Trent launched into a lengthy tale concerning his recent exploits in South America. In many particulars the story did not hang together, and Doris and Kitty were bored. Iris and Azalea were flattering listeners and, whenever he showed signs of pausing, urged him on with interested questions.

As Doris listened, doubts began to form in her mind. It seemed incomprehensible that this boasting, crude stranger could really be her cousin. There must be a mistake, she told herself. Ronald Trent was not a relative; of that she felt certain.

"Well, girlies, isn't it about time you trundled off to your little beds?" he asked, looking insinuatingly at Doris and Kitty.

"I imagine you girls are tired," Azalea murmured. "If you like, I can have Cora show you to your room."

"Oh, we're not sleepy yet," Kitty said mischievously.

Ronald Trent fairly glared at her.

"Run along now," he said lightly, but with a look which warned the girls he expected to be obeyed. "I have some business to talk over with Iris and Azalea."

Iris rang for Cora, and the girls reluctantly followed her upstairs through a long hall and down a number of steps into a wing which branched off to the right. Cora showed them their room and left them alone.

"Looks as if we're to be off in this wing all by ourselves," Kitty said uneasily. "This place is too spooky to suit me."

The room was large and austere with long mirrors and an old-fashioned four-poster bed and dresser. Several rag rugs were scattered over the bare floor. Double windows looked down over the side veranda and the branches of a sprawling maple tree brushed against the panes.

As a precautionary measure Kitty looked under the bed and peeped into the closet.

"Wasn't that man terrible?" Doris said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "And the way he sent us to bed just as though we were infants! Do you think he really could be a cousin of mine?"

"I don't see how he could be," Kitty comforted. "He doesn't look or act like any of your relatives that I ever saw."

"Well, I hope not! Wonder what he wants of Iris and Azalea?"

"Something he didn't want us to hear, that's certain. Say, where is he from, anyway?"

"Some place about four hundred miles from here-Cloudy Cove, I think he said."

"And he drives that far every few days to see Azalea and Iris? It looks fishy to me."

"I think so, too," Doris agreed. "The Misses Gates are lovely ladies-far too good for that loud creature-but at the same time they're scarcely the type a man would drive four hundred miles to see."

"He doesn't care a whit about them. You can tell that."

As they undressed, the girls continued to discuss Ronald Trent and to make disparaging remarks. Then Kitty jumped into bed and Doris put out the light. Snuggling down into the covers, they shivered a bit as the wind rattled the window pane. They could almost imagine that in the pitch dark room someone was slowly creeping toward them.

"I'd hate to stay here very long," Kitty whispered. "Folks are so funny. Even Henry and Cora."

"I'm eager to find out why they sent for me," Doris whispered in return. "It looks to me as though there's something strange going on here."

Save for the moaning of the wind, the old house was quiet, and presently the girls heard the front door slam shut.

"That was my illustrious cousin departing," Doris murmured.

A few minutes later they heard two doors close farther down the hall and knew that Azalea and Iris had retired.

The girls closed their eyes and tried to go to sleep, but the brushing of the branches against the windows, and the weird sounds made by the wind, kept them in a state of nervous suspense. Then, just as Doris was dozing off, she heard a low whimpering moan from the yard below.

"Wags!" she whispered to Kitty.

"Maybe he'll stop," her chum suggested.

But Wags did not stop. He continued to whimper until the girls were afraid he would disturb the entire household.

"Poor thing!" Doris sympathized. "He's out there all alone in a strange place. I'll bet he's lonesome."

At last, unable to bear it any longer, she slipped out of bed and began to dress.

"What are you going to do?" Kitty whispered.

"I'm going to bring him up here for the night."

"Cora will just about kill you, if she catches you!"

"I'll sneak down so quietly no one will hear me."

"I don't like to stay here alone while you're gone, Dory. It's too scarey."

"Then come along."

"Ugh! It's too far."

Doris had finished dressing and now, without making a light, she moved cautiously toward the door.

"Don't be gone long," Kitty pleaded in a whisper. "If Wags lets out a yelp while you're bringing him upstairs, we're sunk!"

Quietly opening the door, Doris stood and listened. The old mansion was quiet save for the whistling of the wind and the rattling of doors and windows. Hesitating a moment, she noiselessly stole down the hallway. She was not afraid of being heard for she knew Azalea and Iris had rooms in the other wing.

At the head of the stairway she halted in astonishment. Below her she caught the glimmer of an oil lamp. To her further amazement she saw two men sitting at the table and instantly recognized them as Ronald Trent and Henry Sully!

Doris's first impulse was to retreat. Then, realizing that she was standing in the dark and could not be seen, although she could plainly see what the others were about, she was tempted to remain. Instinctively, she had sensed that all was not as it should be. She distinctly remembered hearing Ronald Trent leave the house before the Misses Gates had retired. Why, then, had Henry Sully admitted him again and so quietly that no one had been the wiser?

She listened intently so as not to miss a word the men were saying.

"Any mail today, Hank?" she heard Ronald Trent mutter.

"No, but we'll git something soon, I hope," Henry answered so low that Doris scarcely caught the words. "Takes a while to git mail from the oil fields, I reckon."

"Wish things would start breaking our way for a change," Ronald said. "First thing we know that smart-looking Force kid will throw a wrench into the works and ruin our plans. I need money bad, too."

"You ain't the only one."

"Everybody does," growled Trent softly.

"I can't stand this outfit much longer," mumbled Henry dejectedly.

"How's the crowd in town treating you?" inquired Trent, a bit maliciously. "The town officials haven't decided on a clean-up week, have they?"

"Naw, that's all right. But this law-abidin' flock make me tired. Too many females pokin' around-just too many," muttered Henry disgustedly, taking out his watch, and winding the stem thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side in an attitude of alertness. The hour was growing late.

Doris shrank back, but there was no need. They were entirely unaware of her nearness.

Ronald Trent laughed suggestively. This made Doris's cheeks burn with embarrassment as he said, "Gee, that bunch of flowers smell good to me! I love the ladies, especially the pretty girlies, Henry. I'm not so hard to be friends with," the egotist mused. "I'm a swell dresser, too, everything the dames like."

Henry envied him his position with the Misses Gates, it was plain to be seen, as he accepted the statement with a nod of approval.

There was a pause as Ronald Trent took out a wallet and looked over its contents.

Doris waited in the dark hallway, unable to see the contents.

"The old dames are shutting down a bit," Ronald went on. "I had to play up to 'em tonight and got only two hundred at that."

"Too bad the old gals got that letter off to the red-head. That was one you missed, Trent."

This reference to her made Doris decide to creep a step or two nearer. She had heard enough to convince her that Henry and Ronald were conspiring against Azalea and Iris, the two trusting, flower-like ladies!

She strained forward to catch more of the conversation.