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Chapter XV
TEA AND ORDERS

After she had changed her clothes and fed the famished pup with a bowl of warm milk and bread, Dorothy took him down to the library. Gretchen brought a small open basket and a blanket and they made him a bed near the open fire. Professor promptly went to sleep, and his mistress curled up in a deep chair beside him, reading and dozing for the rest of the afternoon. To amuse Gretchen, she had placed a dictionary near the basket, to see if Professor would follow his double’s example and so justify his name. When he awoke, however, about four o’clock, he merely jumped out of his bed on to the book, and up to Dorothy’s lap, where he went to sleep again.

“Good ole pup!” Dorothy rubbed his smooth, warm head between his ears. “You show your intelligence by using the dictionary as a stepping stone to better things, don’t you, Prof!”

She yawned, closed her book, and promptly went to sleep again herself.

She awoke with a start, to find Mrs. Lawson smiling down at her. Tunbridge was laying the tea-things on a table at the other side of the fire. “Well, my dear,” the lady said, her eyes on the fox terrier, “I see you’ve found a new friend.”

“Oh, yes, isn’t he just too darling? I found him out in the blizzard, he was half frozen and almost starved!” She went on to tell Mrs. Lawson about it.

“I’m afraid I’m not very fond of animals, Janet.” Dorothy noticed that she did not attempt to touch the puppy. “I don’t dislike them, you understand, but somehow they never seem to like me.”

“That’s too bad,” said Dorothy. “I do hope you won’t mind my keeping him – at least until we learn who his owner is?”

Laura Lawson looked doubtful. “Well, I don’t mind. But – this is Doctor Winn’s house, you know, and his decision, after all, is the one that counts. You will have to ask him about keeping the dog, Janet.”

“Is Doctor Winn going to have tea with us, Mrs. Lawson?”

“He most certainly is, my dear. That is, if you ladies will pour him a cup.”

Dorothy glanced up, and beside her stood an old gentleman, very tall and spare, but bowed with the weight of his years. She knew that the scientist was well over eighty. Catching up the fox terrier, she rose to her feet.

“How do you do, Doctor Winn?” She smiled and offered him her hand.

The old gentleman bent over it with courtly grace. “Good afternoon, Miss Janet Jordan. Welcome to Winncote.” Merry gray eyes twinkled at her from behind pince-nez attached to a broad black ribbon. An aristocrat of the old school, Dorothy thought, as she studied his handsome, clean shaven face crisscrossed with the tiny wrinkles of advanced age. She had imagined him to be quite a different sort of person. His next words proved that he read her thoughts.

“You expected to see a musty old fellow, with a long white beard, wearing a smock stained by chemicals, eh?” He chuckled softly. “Now, tell me, young lady, isn’t that so? Though I admit these flannel slacks and old Norfolk jacket are hardly fashionable habiliments when one is taking tea with ladies!”

He released her hand and smiled a greeting to Mrs. Lawson. The second footman, he of the plum-colored knee-breeches, set the tea table before that young matron, under the supervision of the stately Tunbridge.

Dorothy liked this gallant old scientist and his courtly ways. Her own eyes sparkled gaily back at him. “Yes, you did surprise me, Doctor Winn,” she confessed. “Please don’t think I’m being forward, but – but you seem much more like the English fox-hunting squires I’ve read about, than the world-renowned chemist you really are, with stacks of letters after your name. But ever so much nicer, and jollier, you know!”

Doctor Winn beamed. “Now that, my dear, is a most charming compliment. Old fellows like me aren’t used to compliments from young ladies, either. Do sit down again, please, and tell me how you like Winncote and our New England snowstorms. We old people need young folks around. I can see that we are going to be good friends.”

He sat down in a chair the butler drew up for him.

“Mrs. Lawson will tell you,” replied Dorothy, “that I love it out here in the country.” She accepted a cup of tea from Tunbridge and added sugar and a slice of lemon. The butler was followed by his liveried assistant, bearing silver platters of hot, buttered scones and tiny iced cakes. Professor immediately began to show interest in the proceedings. Dorothy held him firmly out of harm’s way, and placed her tea and eatables on the broad arm of her chair.

Mrs. Lawson looked up from her place behind the shining silver and old china of the tea table. She smiled graciously. “Oh, yes, Janet loves blizzards, too, Doctor Winn. She went out for a walk this afternoon and acquired a fox terrier puppy, as you see.”

“And naturally, she wants to keep him.” The old gentleman leaned forward in his chair, the better to look at Professor. “You certainly may, Janet. And by the way, I hope you’ll agree that it’s an old man’s privilege to call you by your first name?”

“Oh, that is sweet of you!” Dorothy cried delightedly, and the Doctor’s chuckle echoed her pleasure.

“The dog’s got a fine head – a very fine head, indeed. If anybody advertises for him, or comes to claim him, I’ll take pleasure in buying the puppy for you.”

“Why, you’re nicer every minute,” declared Dorothy. “Isn’t he, Professor?”

The pup yawned with great indifference, which set all three of them laughing. His mistress put him in his blanket where he promptly curled up and fell into slumber once more.

“I sadly fear,” said Doctor Winn, as he polished his pince-nez with a white silk handkerchief, “that you are a good deal of a flirt Janet. But inasmuch as I am old enough to be your grandfather, or great-grandfather, for that matter, you are pardoned with a reprimand.” He chuckled deep in his throat, a habit he had when pleased. “Now tell me, how you happened to find him out in the snow.”

Dorothy recounted the story in detail. When she came to the part about Gretchen’s fear of the wildcat and the fox, even Mrs. Lawson, who was none too sure she liked the turn things were taking, broke into a merry peal of laughter.

“Capital, capital!” Doctor Winn beamed. “I only wish I’d been there to see it. But why, may I ask, do you call him Professor?”

Dorothy explained about the dictionary and Gretchen’s idea of the pup’s resemblance to Dorothea Gutmann’s fox terrier.

“Better and better,” exclaimed the Doctor. “This is the jolliest tea we’ve had in this house for ages. We need young people around us to be really happy. You and I and Martin, Laura, have been working too hard of late. ‘All work and no play’ – We’ve been bothering too much about things scientific, and neglecting things personal. Well now, we can rest a while, and become human beings again.”

Mrs. Lawson leaned forward eagerly. “Then, the formula is complete?” she asked in a low voice, in which Dorothy detected the barely controlled tremor of excitement.

“Yes, indeed. Finished and locked in my safe. I added the final figures and quantities three-quarters of an hour ago. Tomorrow, or if the weather doesn’t clear by then, the next day at latest, I shall take it on to Washington.”

“I congratulate you, Doctor. And I know that once it is in the hands of the government, a great load will be taken off your mind.”

“You’re right, my dear, you are right. I’ve been jumpy as a cat with eight of its lives gone for the past year.” He turned to Dorothy. “Thank goodness, you’re young and without responsibilities, Janet. There are so many unscrupulous people about nowadays. If those papers were lost or stolen, there is no telling what would happen. I dare not think of it. The whole world might suffer if that formula got into the wrong hands!”

Dorothy could not help thinking that the world at large would be much better off if the formula were destroyed. She, therefore, merely nodded and looked impressed. How this gentle, kindly old man could have brought himself to invent such a ghastly menace to life, she found it difficult to understand.

Laura Lawson stood up. “Doctor Winn likes to dine early, Janet, so if we are to be dressed by six-thirty, we had better start upstairs.”

“My word, yes!” The old gentleman snapped open the hunting case of his repeater and got stiffly to his feet. “Time flies when one is enjoying oneself. It’s nearly six o’clock. This has been very pleasant indeed, the first of many afternoons, I hope.” He snapped the watch shut and returned it to his pocket. “You ladies will excuse me, I’m sure.” He bowed to them both, and holding himself much more erect than he had formerly, walked stiffly from the room.

“He’s simply darling,” exclaimed Dorothy in a hushed voice.

“Yes, he’s a very simple and a very fine old gentleman,” said Laura Lawson. She seemed lost in her thoughts and evidently unaware that she uttered them aloud. “Sometimes – I hate to hurt him so.”

“Why – why, what do you mean?” Dorothy could have bitten her own tongue out for speaking that sentence.

“Mean – ? Oh, nothing, child. Run along now, and change. But take your dog with you. I’ll see that one of the men gives him a run in the stables while we’re at dinner.”

“Thank you very much,” said Dorothy. She turned the sleeping pup out of his bed, caught up the basket, and with Professor at her heels, ran lightly from the room.

Just outside the door she collided with Tunbridge, and Professor’s basket was jerked from her grasp.

“Oh, I’m so very sorry, Miss Jordan!” His acting was perfect. Dorothy knew that Mrs. Lawson was close behind them. Then as they both stooped to retrieve the basket their heads came close together. “Under your pillow!” It was hardly more than the breath of a whisper, but Dorothy caught the words, nodded her understanding, and stood up.

“I’m afraid I’m to blame, Tunbridge. I didn’t see you coming.”

“Not at all, Miss. It was my fault, entirely. Very clumsy of me I’m sure!”

From the corner of her eye Dorothy caught a glimpse of Laura Lawson watching them from the doorway.

“Don’t let it worry you, Tunbridge. I’m not hurt, neither is the basket. Professor will probably park himself on my pillow tonight, anyway. Puppies have a way of doing such things, you know. So it really wouldn’t matter much if you had smashed it.”

She gave him a nod, and picking up the dog made for the staircase.

“So instructions are waiting under my pillow,” she mused, as she slowly mounted the broad stair. The afternoon had been a pleasant one, but the evening, with those instructions ahead of her, portended to be something quite different. It had been so nice and cheerful, chatting round the tea table; so cozy sitting before the glowing logs, just talking of jolly things and forgetting all worry and responsibility. Of course, beyond the curtained windows, the blizzard howled. And it whipped the swirling snowflakes into disordered clouds with its arctic lash before it let them seek the shelter of their fellows in the drifts. She felt very much as though she too were a snowflake, tossed hither and thither on the storm of circumstance, to be whipped forward by the secret lash of underlying crime.

If she could only drop down on to her bed and sleep – and awake to find it all a bad dream! She sighed and went toward her door on the gallery. Her pillow held no peace for her tonight – nothing more nor less than detailed instructions as to how Tunbridge wished her to rob a safe. Why didn’t the man do his own stealing? Her part was to take Janet’s place out here, and kill suspicion in Laura Lawson. Well, she’d done that, hadn’t she? And now they loaded this other job on to her. It wasn’t fair. She had done enough – she’d —

“Oh, shucks!” She pulled herself up mentally as her hand fell on the doorknob. “I’ll be losing my nerve altogether, if I let my thoughts run on this way. D. Dixon, you just must not funk it!”

She turned the knob and entered her room.

Chapter XVI
CAUGHT IN THE ACT

When Dorothy went down to dinner that evening, she knew exactly what she had to do. After reading Tunbridge’s note which she found had been slipped between the pillow case and the pillow itself, she had memorized the combination to Doctor Winn’s safe, and destroyed the missive as she had his warning of the night before. After a bath and a complete change of clothing, she felt refreshed and in a much better frame of mind. She had selected one of the prettiest gowns in Janet’s wardrobe, a turquoise blue crepe, with a cluster of silver roses fastened in the twisted velvet girdle, put on slippers to match, and surveyed the result in the mirror.

“Decidedly becoming, my girl,” she smiled at her reflection, and gave a last pat to her shining bob that she had brushed until it lay like a bronze cap close about her shapely head. “Might as well look my best at my criminal debut!” She made a face at herself, turned and kissed the sleeping puppy in his basket, and went downstairs.

Doctor Winn and Mrs. Lawson were standing talking in the entrance hall, near the fireplace. The old gentleman, dressed in immaculate dinner clothes, looked more than ever like the English squire in his ancestral hall. He came forward to meet her, both hands outstretched.

“As charming as an English primrose and twice as beautiful!” he greeted gaily.

“Thank you kindly, sir.” She dropped him a little curtsey and let him lead her to Mrs. Lawson.

“Our little secretary has blossomed into a very lovely debutante,” he beamed.

Dorothy bit her lip, remembering her own phrase of a few moments before, then smiled at her employer. Mrs. Lawson was regal in black velvet, trimmed in narrow bands of ermine. She returned Dorothy’s smile, and lifted her finely pencilled brows at the Doctor. “Oh, you men. You are all alike. A pretty gown, a pretty face intrigues you, young or old. Pay no attention to his flattery, Janet. I can hardly blame him, though. You look lovely tonight. That is an exquisite frock. Did you buy it abroad?”

“Oh, no, at a little place on fifty-seventh street.” Of course Dorothy had no idea where Janet had bought the dress. “It is a Paris model, though, Mrs. Lawson.”

“I thought as much. Ah, here comes Tunbridge with the cocktails. I wonder which side of the fence you are on?”

“I’m – I’m afraid I don’t know quite what you mean, Mrs. Lawson.”

“I’ll explain,” broke in the old gentleman. “I’m the prohibitionist in this house, Janet. Mrs. Lawson is one of the antis. She likes a real cocktail before dinner. I prefer one made of tomato juice.”

Mrs. Lawson had already helped herself to a brimming glass and a small canapé of caviar from the silver tray Tunbridge was holding.

“Oh, I love tomato cocktails,” smiled Dorothy. She took one from the man and helped herself to the caviar. “Daddy asked me not to drink until I was twenty-one – and I’m not so keen on the idea, anyway.”

“I try to keep an open mind about such things,” the Doctor said seriously, “but I’ve never found that the use of alcohol did anyone any good. Well, here’s your very good health, ladies!” He raised his glass of tomato juice and drank.

Dinner was announced a few minutes later. Doctor Winn offered his right arm to Mrs. Lawson and his left to Dorothy and they walked into the dining room. Dorothy did not enjoy that meal as much as she had her luncheon. True, the food was delicious and the panelled room with its cheerful fire on the hearth and the soft glow of candle light was delightfully homey, while Doctor Winn’s easy chatter and fund of interesting reminiscence helped to break the tedium of the courses. But Dorothy found it difficult to play up to his amusing sallies. The old gentleman appeared to be in very good spirits indeed. Laura Lawson, on the other hand, was unusually quiet. At times she seemed distrait and merely smiled absently when spoken to. She drank several glasses of claret, but hardly touched her food. Dorothy felt surer than ever that the Lawsons had planned their coup for tonight. She shrewdly surmised that this cold-blooded adventuress had become fond of the genial, fatherly old man, and realized that at his age the blow she contemplated might very well prove a fatal one.

As the dinner wore on, Dorothy felt more and more ill at ease. The sight of Tunbridge, soft-footed and efficient, waiting on table or superintending his satellite of the plum-colored kneebreeches, sent her thoughts to the night’s work ahead every time the detective-butler came into the room. She was glad when at last the meal was over and they repaired to the library where after-dinner coffee was served. Dorothy rarely drank coffee in the evening, but tonight she allowed Tunbridge to fill her cup a second time. There must be no sleep for her until the wee hours of the morning, and she knew from former experience that the black coffee would keep her awake.

Mrs. Lawson, after wandering aimlessly about the room, finally picked up a technical magazine and commenced to read. Doctor Winn suggested a game of chess to Dorothy. She was fond of the ancient game and told him so. Many a tournament she and her father had played with their red and white ivory chessmen. Dr. Winn was a brilliant player, of long experience. Soon he began to compliment Dorothy upon a number of strategic moves. But although several times she managed to place his king in check, it was invariably her own royal chessman who was checkmated in the end. As the evening wore on, the beatings became more frequent, for Dorothy simply could not keep her mind on the game.

For a while she sat watching the log fire and talking to the Doctor in a desultory way while Mrs. Lawson continued to read. Then as the grandfather clock chimed ten, Laura Lawson laid down her magazine and stood up.

“I think I’ll go to bed now, if you don’t mind.” The half stifled yawn, sheer camouflage thought Dorothy, was nevertheless a masterpiece of deception. “I’ve a bit of a headache, so I’ll say good night.”

Doctor Winn and Dorothy got to their feet. “I’m for bed myself,” announced the old gentleman, “and in spite of the coffee you drank after dinner, I know you’re sleepy, Janet. Your chess playing toward the end proved it.” His eyes twinkled at her. “But in storm or clear weather, there’s nothing like the air of this Connecticut Ridge Country to make one eat and sleep. By the way, Laura, when do you expect Martin?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Doctor – he won’t be back tonight. He phoned me from town just before dinner, that on account of the blizzard, he had decided to stay in until tomorrow. If you need him sooner, he said to call up the Roosevelt. He always stops there, you know.”

“Yes, yes, but I shan’t need him, thank you.” He turned to Dorothy. “The railroad has taken upon itself to discontinue all service to Ridgefield,” he explained. “Branchville is our nearest station, and driving will be difficult tonight. There must be very deep drifts by this time.”

“I should think it would be mighty unpleasant to get stuck out in a blizzard like this. I’m glad I don’t have to go out into it. But in a way I’m thankful for the snow, because we ought to have a white Christmas, and it’s ever so much more fun.”

“Bless my soul! I’d entirely forgotten that Christmas comes next week. Well, this year we must celebrate the Yuletide in the good old fashioned way. Thank you, Janet, for reminding me.”

Good nights were said, and a few minutes later Dorothy was again alone in the Pink Bedroom. Or so she thought, as she entered. But at once she noticed that a single shaded wall-light sent a pleasant glow from the bay window, and curled up in the cushioned recess, Gretchen was reading.

Dorothy stopped short in surprise and the girl sprang to her feet. “Oh, Miss – Miss Jordan, Mr. Tunbridge told me to come and help you undress and get ready for the night. Of course I didn’t know if you would want me – ” then she added in a whisper, “but he thought you might be sort of blue and I could cheer you up, I guess.”

Dorothy smiled at Gretchen’s pretty, earnest face. “Why, of course I want you, Gretchen. Tunbridge is very thoughtful. I’ve never had the luxury of a personal maid and I don’t know that I’ll ever feel helpless enough to need one! But if you want to stay and talk, I’d love it.”

“But I can help you, too,” Gretchen insisted. “I’m not really a trained maid, you know, but Nanette – that’s Mrs. Lawson’s French maid – has been teaching me. Gee, I’d certainly love to be your personal maid, Miss Jordan.”

“Well, you may be, some day, who knows?” she laughed. “But you can help me tonight, though there’ll be no bed for me until much later.”

Gretchen, who was arranging the pillows and smoothing the covers on the bed, turned her head sharply. “Secret Service Work?” she queried in an excited whisper.

Dorothy nodded and tossed her dress on to a chair. She continued speaking in a tone just above a whisper. “At twelve o’clock tonight I’ve got to go downstairs and commit justifiable burglary in Doctor Winn’s office. The real thief will be along later – at least, I hope so, for everybody’s sake. In the meantime I want you to do something for me – will you?”

“I sure will, miss – gee, this is exciting!”

“Don’t let it cramp your style.” Dorothy laughed, and pulling off her stocking, she handed Gretchen the packet of thin paper, the manuscript on “Winnite” that she had typed that morning. “When you finish up in here, I want you to find Mr. Tunbridge and give him these papers. You’d better pin it inside your uniform now, and be very careful that nobody sees you giving it to him.”

“You can trust me,” declared Gretchen, and she put the papers safely within her dress. “Is Mr. Tunbridge really a detective?”

“He certainly is, Gretchen.”

“I’d never have guessed it if you hadn’t told me. But then, I suppose not looking like one makes him all the better?”

“That’s the idea.” Dorothy put Janet’s quilted satin dressing gown on over her pajamas. “Now that I’m ready for bed, and you’ve put all my clothes away so nicely, I think you’d better run along, Gretchen. Not,” she amended, “that I wouldn’t love to talk to you while I’m waiting for twelve o’clock, but we must not let certain people in this house get wise to our friendship.”

“And Mrs. Lawson is one awful snoopy lady,” Gretchen observed candidly. “Well, good night, Miss Jordan. Thank you a lot for letting me in on this. I’ll see that Mr. Tunbridge gets your papers all right. Good night – and take care of yourself.” She stood before Dorothy with an anxious frown on her honest brow. “I sure do wish you the very best luck!”

Dorothy grinned. “Thank you. I certainly need it. Good night.”

The door closed upon the little maid and Dorothy looked at her wrist watch. It was ten minutes to eleven. For a time she sat on the edge of her bed and stared unseeingly at the rug under her feet. Presently she got up, locked her door, turned off her lights and went over to the window. She drew aside the curtains and was surprised to see that it had stopped snowing. There was no moon, but what sky she could see was fairly a-crackle with stars. The heavy blanket of snow looked silver in the starlight. A remote world and cold. Dorothy allowed the curtains to drop back into place, and sat down on the window seat. Lost in thoughts pleasant and unpleasant, she sat there for the next hour, while the faint noises of the big house gradually subsided into stillness.

At exactly five minutes to twelve, Dorothy raised the window, letting in the cold night air. Then she turned off the heat and got into bed. After lying there for possibly a minute, she threw back the covers, thrust her feet into the fur-lined slippers she had left at the bedside and moved like a dim shadow to the closet.

It was crowded with Janet’s suits, coats and frocks, and she was careful not to disturb them on their hangers, as she pushed between them in the darkness to the rear wall and pressed her foot on the board in the corner. The panel slid upward with a noiselessness that spoke for well-oiled machinery somewhere in the walls. Dorothy stepped cautiously through the opening. Her fingers sought the handle to this sliding door, found it, and she pulled the panel down again.

Then for the first time she made use of the small flashlight which she carried in the pocket of her gown. She saw that she was standing on the top step of a narrow circular stair that wound downward. Off went her light again – she was taking no unnecessary chances tonight – and with her hand on the metal handrail, she felt her way slowly down the stair, holding her free hand well in advance of her body.

When her extended fingers touched a wall that blocked further progress, she felt with a slippered foot out to the right. The board gave slightly, the wall panel moved upward and she stepped forth to find herself in the great fireplace of the entrance hall, just beyond the embers of the dying logs. The hall was illuminated in the dim glow of a night light in the ceiling. As she turned to pull down the sliding shutter, there came a streak of white from the dark passage and Professor bounded into the hall.

Dorothy was completely startled, and just as exasperated as she could be. She could not call him, for the slightest sound might bring the wakeful enemy to the spot. The pup, after his long sleep, was playful, and scampered about madly, his bright eyes watching her every move. She attempted to catch him, but he eluded her with an agility that made her still more angry. He seemed to think that this was a splendid game, raced across the floor in high glee, but ever watchful to keep beyond her reach.

Dorothy gave it up as a bad job. She dared not pursue him too determinedly, for fear he would bark. She pulled down the sliding shutter in the fireplace, and leaving Professor to his frolic, hurried on to the door of Doctor Winn’s office.

Inside the room with the door shut, her flashlight came into play for the second time. It took her but a moment with the memorized combination at her fingertips to open the safe. The door was surprisingly heavy, but at last the interior of the small vault came within her line of vision. From a drawer she took a folded sheet of white paper. Out of her pocket came a pencil and another sheet of paper. In an amazingly short time she copied the formula and replaced the original in the safe drawer. She tucked the copy into the fur lining of her slipper under her bare foot. Then suddenly she sprang up.

Her heart leaped into her throat. In the corridor just outside there came the sound of a footstep. There was no time to do more than shut off her torch and drop it, together with her pencil, into the waste paper basket. The door opened, lights flashed on, and Martin Lawson walked into the room.