The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

“Yes, Miss Wing. Right away as soon as I can drop this tray and get to the telephone.”
    “Thanks—oh, thanks,” Fredericka said, and then couldn’t resist adding: “You will hurry, won’t you?” But fortunately Miss Sanders had already left the room.
    Chapter 15
    As Peter Mohun walked away from Fredericka’s room down the long corridor that smelt of soap and disinfectant, the smile disappeared and a look of concentration took its place. Outside, he stopped for a moment in the shade of a giant maple to light a cigarette—then he walked on slowly and climbed into his car. As he drove back toward South Sutton, the sun beat down on the canvas top of the old Ford and beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. He kept his right hand on the wheel and fished for his handkerchief with his left. Then he absently mopped his head and neck, but the look of concentration did not leave his face.
    It was just as he was approaching the town along Beech Street and was about to stop at the police station that the inspiration came to him. He did not stop. Instead he went on at breakneck speed to Miss Hartwell’s bookshop, drove the car around into the alley, and parked it quietly. He noted with satisfaction that there was no one else about as he got out quickly, walked along until he found Margie’s foxhole, eased his large body through the gap, and went straight to the old greenhouse.
    Inside it was very hot. The sun’s rays were now directly overhead and the nearest tree offered little shade. Peter went back to prop open the door with a stone and then began systematically to explore every inch of the floor and walls. Finding nothing of interest except a large collection of empty jars, he picked up each of the two bottles and the jar on the shelf, observed the name on the label, then opened and smelled each one, and returned it to its place. They were all standard brand products labelled and heavily perfumed. He stood still and stared at the shelf. Between the two bottles was a greasy ring that showed plainly in the dust. Peter took the jar and found that it was smaller than the ring. His look of concentration increased as he searched about for the right jar and found none. He then looked at the makeup kit which was also revealing. Finally he dispensed with the pile of comics and the letters. They were all much alike. One was headed “Perfection Beauty Creams Company,” with an address in Chicago. He read:
    Dear Miss Hartwell
    In reply to your recent inquiry, we judge from what you say of your case, that our cream number 43 is exactly what you need. We are sending a small sample jar under separate cover but beg to advise that in a serious condition, as you describe yours to be, you will need a large jar and constant application. We shall be happy to send this at once post free on receipt of check or money order for three dollars.
    Yours very truly,
    The signature was obviously a rubber stamp and very blurred.
    “Poor kid,” Peter said aloud, as he put the letter down and glanced through the other similar ones.
    “Oh, it’s you-all, Colonel Mohun.” A soft voice spoke behind him and Peter turned quickly to see Chris peering in at him. “I’m sorry, suh, I seen the door standing open and I thought it might be them kids.”
    “Nothing to be sorry about, Chris. I’m just having a look around.” He took out his cigarettes and offered one to the old man. “It’s hot as hades in here. I’m about ready to get outside.”
    They walked up the back path toward the house and Peter asked: “Did Margie use that shed much, Chris?”
    “She sure did. Come in and out that little hole back there night and day she did. Pore chile.”
    “Even last week, Chris?”
    The old man took off his hat and scratched the back of his head. “Yes, sir. I remembers now. She was here jes’ before she was took sick. I told Jim not to take no notice of her. Miss Hartwell she let her have that place for playin’ in. Didn’t make no harm.”
    “No, of course not.”
    “I never did tell no one about it whatsoever. Her Mom got real mad about her puttin’ those potions on her face so Miss Hartwell and I we kep’ it in strict secrecy until those policemen had a look round and foun’ out about it. But they didn’t take nothin’ away and that chile come right along day and night like I told you. She did love that little hidey-hole.” He sighed heavily.
    As they approached the house Connie heard them, and came out the back