No sooner had they deposited Miss Davis at her front gate than Cara turned to Babs.
“Now see here, Sister,” she began facetiously, “you’ve got to tell me all about this. What’s on your mind?”
“Of course, Cara, I intend to tell you. I’ve just been waiting for a chance,” answered Babs, sullenly.
“Well, here’s your chance. Go ahead and tell. And judging from the look on your alabaster face it needs to be told. Honestly Babs, you look years older since yesterday. Nobody murdered, I hope?”
Babs laughed, but it was a sickly little laugh, and had nothing to do with merriment.
“No, not murder exactly,” Babs replied after an embarrassed pause. “But you know how seriously those old ladies take their family heirlooms.”
“Yes.”
“And you know the Davis ladies are twins.”
“Yes.”
“Well, one twinnie wanted to show a family piece and the other twinnie objected,” Babs continued, in a voice as even as a tape line put through the phonograph.
“She would. All twinnies are that way. Go ahead,” proposed Cara a little impatiently.
Barbara sighed. She had secretly gone over the details of the loss so often since Miss Davis came this morning, that her weary brain fairly pricked in dismay at encountering the subject in word form.
“Miss Davis brought a little ship model, one of those old-time murderous, pirate-prisoner sailing things,” she began bravely, “and it has disappeared.”
“Disappeared! Do you mean the famous Davis model of Columbus’ Santa Maria?” Cara almost stopped her car unconsciously, in surprise.
“Yes,” said Babs, from tightened lips.
“Oh, how dreadful! How did it disappear? How could it, I mean?”
“I don’t know,” Babs flared back this time. “You don’t suppose I do know, do you, Cara?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that, Babs; of course you don’t know,” Cara sort of apologized. “But I thought you might have some idea. Here we are. Going to stay long? I’ve got to drive Mother to the village——”
“Don’t think of coming for me, Cara,” Babs interrupted as she stepped out of the car in front of the Community House. “I need the walk back home. I’m not going to stay long, either,” she declared, “for I don’t see a lot of fun in sorting this truck. Of course, we’ve promised, and we’ve got to help,” she recalled, “but it’s women’s work; we do better in swimming this time of year.”
“We certainly do, Babs,” Cara promptly agreed. “But you haven’t unburdened your soul.” She had a merry way of making things easier. Most of Babs’ troubles seemed to take wings when Cara Burke blew her breath at them. But this was different. It wouldn’t go. It couldn’t go when each step added weight to the worry.
Nicky was gone!
“You know,” Babs almost whispered to Cara, for she had one foot on the running board and that brought her very close to Cara’s ear, “you know,” she repeated, “Nicky’s folks have moved.”
“I guessed that,” Cara answered.
“Why?”
“Because I heard him begging you for money yesterday on the porch. Don’t look so alarmed. I went out looking for you and heard him almost sobbing for some money,” said Cara.
“Who heard us?” Another shock for Babs.
“Oh, don’t look so panicky,” smiled Cara. “I didn’t hear anything important. Those youngsters are always after money and there was nothing strange in Nicky’s wanting some. I suppose he wanted it to help out with the moving.”
“I suppose so,” agreed Babs. Once again Cara vanquished a bugbear. What harm had there been in Nicky’s asking for money, after all?
“What did the girls say?” Babs asked evenly. “Were they looking for me?”
“Oh, you know what they would say. Well, that’s what they said. But Babs, old girl, you just better jump in here again and ride around with me,” Cara proposed. “You don’t look a bit like Old Home Week and you shouldn’t go in there. That’s a girl,” she chanted, for Babs was stepping back into the car. “Now, sit close to your old friend and pour out the whole horrible tale. How did the Santa Maria disappear? Who was around when you left last night?”
Babs felt a little gasp catch at her throat. That was it. Who was around?
“Just Miss Davis and I were there,” she began, but her sigh meant more than her words.
“Babs ducky,” pleaded Cara ever so kindly, “don’t you think you will feel better when you tell me? You can trust me, can’t you?”
That appeal stirred a new emotion in Barbara Hale.
“Of course I can, Cara,” she answered instantly, “and you likely know exactly what is worrying me. I’m afraid Nicky took that model!”
“Oh, Babs! He couldn’t. Not Nicky!”
“You’re a love to have such confidence in him, Cara. That helps.” Babs showed her relief. “There must be a good reason for such confidence as we have. But the poor little fellow! You see, how it looks; his wanting money so badly, and then—this.”
Cara glanced at her wrist watch. “I’ve got an hour before time to go for Mother,” she said, “so let’s go down to the beach. The brisk air will whip us up a little. We’re fagged,” she said smilingly, “especially you. Like old ladies who need catnip tea.”
A few minutes later they were discussing Nicky’s flight earnestly, and with a determined effort to help him.
“But how can we ever find him?” lamented Babs. “You know how queer those Italians are. If we just ask a question about where the Marcusis have moved to they’ll suspect we are enemies and they’ll do everything to hide their tracks. What on earth can we do?” Babs wondered and wondered.
“Are you sure no other boy was with him when he peeked in the window?” Cara questioned.
“Not sure; I couldn’t see well for it was nearly dark. But you know he is almost always alone.”
“Yes; poor kid, he doesn’t get much chance to play, I guess,” Cara replied. “Seems as if he is either selling junk or falling off bicycles. You never got any reply from Washington about his heroism, did you?”
“No. If only I did that might help,” sighed Babs. “But Cara, I can’t help thinking that Nicky looked guilty when he bolted out before Dad’s car. Even Miss Davis noticed that.”
“Oh, Miss Davis!” scoffed Cara. “She’d be sure to think that. But it doesn’t mean a thing. Babs, I’m sure Nicky wouldn’t go off without leaving some word for you. He’s too smart to forget you.”
“Why?” asked Babs innocently.
“Why? Because he idolizes you. Because he thinks you are his guardian angel. Don’t you know the girls even said your father was going to adopt him?”
“Cara Burke!” That left Babs speechless.
“Yes, indeed they did,” Cara repeated. “And it wouldn’t be a bad idea. Can you believe that Dud asked Dad if we couldn’t take him? Dud is just crazy about the youngster. And maybe you didn’t know that Dud took him and his old bike and the oil can all the way over to Breakintake to have a real photograph made. He declared he was going to send it to some news syndicate——”
“For gracious sake!” exclaimed Babs. “He didn’t!”
“He did, too. You don’t know what a hustler my brother is,” wound up Cara, proudly.
“Well,” gasped Babs, brightening at all this good news, “I guess I do know how smart Dud is, Cara. Didn’t I spend hours racing around in his good little car when I should have been doing other things at your house party?”
“You certainly did,” laughed Cara. They were cheered up considerably now.
“And just imagine the girls thinking that we, Dad and I, could take Nicky,” Babs went on. “They evidently don’t know how poor we are,” she said, as if glad to say it, as if she feared giving Cara a false impression of her own humble circumstances.
“Poor! indeed! You’re rich in a lot of things, Babs,” spoke up Cara. “And if you wanted to take Nicky you would soon find out what a real help he could be.”
“I wish I had taken him—last night,” declared Babs, tossing her head to one side so far that her hair came tumbling down like a curtain over one eye. “But it’s too late to make wishes; what we have got to do is to make plans. You see, Cara, it would be so much better if we could get hold of Nicky right away, because Miss Davis’ twin sister Tillie is away. If we could find him, somehow I feel we would find the Santa Maria.”
“You don’t think he took it?”
“No, I don’t. But I feel he would know something about it,” Babs insisted.
“So do I: I might as well admit that,” Cara promptly added. “But say, Babs, did you ever find out anything at all about who did the beautiful wood carving?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“It must have been done in Nicky’s home.”
“Why? He could have gone out for it, some place.”
“Hardly. Because one morning Dud went around to the house and gave the whistle he had learned to call Nicky with. When Nicky answered him his sweater pockets were filled with fine wood shavings. Dud said he kept playing with the shavings and smelling of their sandalwood odor. There wasn’t a doubt about it they came straight from Nicky’s house.”
“That’s very queer,” Babs pondered. “No one but a man could do such skilled work, and who could the man be? That family is helped by the town, you know. They have no real means of support, since their father was taken from them.”
“Well, I’ve got to go now,” Cara decided after a glance at her watch. “Mother is coming over to the club, the Community House of course. She has spent the morning digging up family relics. Hope she hasn’t unearthed any of my love letters,” the girl chuckled. “They would be worth exhibiting.”
“Or any of your early attempts at art,” added Babs. “They’d make quite a showing if Mrs. Brownell would let you put them on easels on her old mahogany table.”
“Oh, that old table! Wasn’t it too funny how they fought about it yesterday? I suppose it will be the spinet today. Really that spinet is worth fighting over,” Cara added thoughtfully. “It is a genuine antique.”
“Don’t let’s talk about antiques,” begged Babs. “It gives me the shivers, after the ship model. But say, Cara, I’ve a notion to go to Captain Quiller. He ought to know where the Marcusis would be apt to go to.”
“Bright idea,” agreed Cara, swinging an arm around her companion. “I’ll take you after lunch. Don’t worry in the meantime. I’ll drop in and see if Miss Davis is alive yet.” Cara would do anything and everything to help Babs.
“All right, thanks a lot. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Cara,” said Babs, affectionately. “You see, I’ve lost Glenn.”
“Yes I see,” chuckled Cara. “He runs around with Dud and sometimes they condescend to let me hitch on. But girls are best; aren’t they, Babby?”
“Yes they are, Cara. See what I did by chumming with even a little fellow. I’d give a whole lot this very minute to forget Nicky Marcusi.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“No, I don’t suppose I would either,” amended Babs. “And besides, we have a mystery to ferret out. Who carved the candlesticks?”
“A noble soul whoever he is,” declared Cara, “for Mother declares no one else could have done that work, and Mother always knows—about candlesticks,” said Cara slyly.
“But the boat,” sighed Babs as they were again taking their seats in the auto. “Why will twins inherit valuable war-time convict-prison-made models?”
“Because, being twins they had to inherit something silly,” laughed Cara. “But let’s hope for good news from Captain Quiller. Dad thinks he’s a rare old character. He goes down to the lighthouse often just to talk with him. I’ll tell you, Babby, we started something at that famous house party, didn’t we?”
“A lot,” agreed Babs. She threw out her arms yawning with relief. “I do feel better,” she said with a smothered sigh. “You have no idea how blue I was.”
“Haven’t I? Didn’t I suspect murder? Say, Babs, you can show more moods in your face than a whole movie show. You ought to go into the movies,” she joked. “You wouldn’t have to do a thing but look and then keep on looking, differently.”
They were able to joke now, even Babs was almost like herself again. But it was no easy matter to feel cheerful and also feel somewhat responsible for the loss of that precious model.
Not that Barbara had had anything directly to do with it, but because she had opposed everybody in keeping up her interest in the little Italian. And just now it certainly looked pretty black for Nickolas Marcusi Junior’s reputation.
“Trouble is,” said Cara without hinting at what she was going to talk about, “if they found Nicky has had anything to do with that they’ll just grab him up and clap him in a reform school.”
“Oh, Cara, they wouldn’t!” exclaimed Babs in real terror.
“Well, that’s what I think they might do,” said Cara, regretting instantly her careless remark. “Of course, with such good friends as your father and my father and Captain Quiller he might have a better chance.”
“Cara, it would be simply terrible if the State should take that boy from his mother after having taken the father. Oh, we must hurry to Captain Quiller,” wailed Babs. “Miss Davis is so nervous she might go to old Chief Morgan, and he doesn’t know any more about police work than the ugly old stupid yellow dog that hounds his heels.”
“I’m sorry I said that, Babs,” confessed Cara, seeing how newly excited Babs had become. “There is no reason in the world to worry about Nicky. Why shouldn’t he move away if his mother wanted to?”
“I try to feel that way, Cara, but I suppose—oh well, we’ll see what the Captain says. I’ll be ready any time you are.”
“About two,” said Cara, and then they both saw Dora waiting on the porch—waiting with a letter in her outstretched hand.