Jane Carter Investigates Episode One-Hundred and Twenty-Six
I continued to walk toward the house at
a deliberate pace as if nothing were amiss. My first thought had been that it
was Paul Firth who spied upon me. However, as the figure straightened I knew I
had been mistaken. The man was too tall to be Firth.
Before I could make out his face, he
moved to another clump of bushes and was then once again enveloped by darkness.
As soon as I reached the kitchen, I
blew out the kerosene lamp and stood by the window, watching. I could not see
the man. He had vanished completely.
Rosie came down the stairway, carrying
her luggage.
“It’s all right,” I called out to her.
“I blew the light out so that I wouldn’t be seen from outside.”
“Is someone there?”
“He’s gone now, I think.”
“There was someone a moment ago?”
“Yes, a man, hiding behind the lilacs.
I believe he must have been watching the house—or possibly the storm cellar!”
“Then you see I was right,” Rosie said.
“This is a dreadful place, and I’ll be glad to leave it.”
“I almost wish you were staying,” I
replied. “You might be able to learn what’s hidden in that cave.”
“Not with Paul Firth so suspicious.
Anyway, you couldn’t pay me to remain even if he would allow it. I’d rather
starve.”
“You have no place to go, Rosie?”
“I’ll find work. If not in Greenville,
then I can return to the country. Anything will be better than spending another
minute here.”
I groped in the dark for the lamp,
relighting it.
“Rosie,” I said, “how would you like to
work at our place for a few days?”
“You don’t mean it.”
“I do if it can be arranged. We have a
housekeeper, but it occurred to me that she might take your place here.”
“She’d be very foolish to give up a
good job for this.”
“It would only be temporary. I think I
can induce her to make the change for a few days. The question is, can we get
Paul Firth to accept her?”
“I doubt if he’ll hire anyone now that
I am leaving. Why do you want your housekeeper in such a place as this, Jane?”
“To learn what’s going on here. I
confess you’ve made me very curious about the storm cave.”
“Firth would watch her every minute,
the same as he did me. It wouldn’t work.”
“It will if Mrs. Timms can get the job.
First of all, we must make Firth so uncomfortable he’ll want someone to take
care of the house. Is he a good cook?”
“Oh, wretched. And the trick of keeping
a good fire going is simply beyond him. If we turned the damper, it never would
occur to him to adjust it.”
“Thanks for the idea,” I said. “Let’s
hide the breakfast supplies, too.”
Before leaving the house, we closed the
damper on the stove, hid the coffee pot and placed salt in the sugar bowl.
“If Old Paul doesn’t get his coffee in
the morning he’ll simply rave,” Rosie said. “Missing his coffee may be the one
thing which would induce him to hire a new housekeeper.”
As we crossed the dark yard, I observed
no one lurking about. Evidently the man who had hidden behind the lilacs had
taken himself elsewhere.
I took Rosie back to Bouncing Betsy and
left her there while I returned down the short pathway to the cottage to
retrieve Mrs. Timms. The housekeeper was ready and waiting by the time I
arrived.
“Jane, I nearly gave you up,” she
sighed. “Why did it take so long?”
“I’ve been busy finding you a new
position,” I said. “Starting tomorrow morning, how would you feel about working
for Paul Firth instead of us?”
“Jane, I am tired tonight and in no
mood for your jokes.”
“This isn’t a joke, Mrs. Timms. I
really do want you to change jobs with Rosie Larkin. You remember I told you
about her.”
Not giving Mrs. Timms the opportunity
to speak, I quickly outlined my plan.
“Early tomorrow morning I’ll drive you
to Firth’s farm,” I said. “You’re to knock on the door and say you’re looking
for a job at very low wages. Firth will be so desperate he’ll welcome you with
open arms. Then, as soon as he’s off his guard, you learn what is hidden in the
storm cave.”
“How lovely,” said Mrs. Timms. “It has
always been my dearest wish to be employed by a raving lunatic.”
“You exaggerate, Mrs. Timms. I’ll admit
that you may find him a trifle paranoid,” I said, “but I don’t believe he’s
anything approaching a raving lunatic. I’m fairly certain he’s not violent, at
least providing he’s not provoked.”
“How very reassuring. Next thing you
know you’ll be offering to loan me that bludgeon you keep in your handbag.”
“My cosh? I’d be happy to let you have
it for a few days, if you’d find it a comfort,” I told Mrs. Timms.
“No, thank you very much. I’ve listened
to your crazy schemes for years, Jane, but this one takes the prizewinning
pound cake.”
“You’ll do it, won’t you?”
“I most certainly will not!”
“Oh, Mrs. Timms,” I moaned. “You don’t
realize how much this means to me!”
“This is one of the wildest schemes
you’ve ever come up with,” Mrs. Timms said firmly. “And I’m having nothing to
do with it.”
“It isn’t wild,” I protested. “It’s
absolutely logical. I would try for the job myself only I know Firth wouldn’t
give it to me. Besides, I will be run off my feet getting out the next issue of
Carter’s All-Story Weekly.”
“I refuse to play detective for you,
Jane. That’s final.”
“Well, if you won’t, you won’t. I shall
be forced to take Rosie to a charity home. She had intended to start working at
our place.”
“The girl may spend a few nights with
us if you like. We have an extra room.”
“Rosie would never accept such a
favor,” I insisted. “She has too much pride. More than anything else she wants
a job. Mrs. Timms, please reconsider—I’ll do anything you ask. Anything at
all.”
“It’s a crazy scheme.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said. “And it’s
highly temporary. Only for a few days until Rosie can find another position,
and you help me find out what’s inside that storm cellar.”
“I’ll do it—” said Mrs. Timms.
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