Prudence of the Parsonage Part 25

But the children loudly objected to this. If Prue and Fairy went, they would go! So down the stairs they trooped, a timorous trembling crowd.

Prudence went at once to the telephone, and called up the residence of the Allans, their neighbors across the street. After a seemingly never-ending wait, the kind-hearted neighbor left his bed to answer the insistent telephone. Falteringly Prudence explained their predicament, and asked him to come and search the house. He promised to be there in five minutes, with his son to help.

"Now," said Prudence more cheerfully, "we'll just go out to the kitchen and wait. It's quiet there, and away from the rest of the house, and we'll be perfectly safe." To the kitchen, then, they hurried, and found real comfort in its smallness and secureness. Prudence raked up the dying embers of the fire, and Fairy drew the blinds to their lowest limits. The twins and Connie trailed them fearfully at every step.

When the fire was burning brightly, Prudence spoke with great a.s.surance. "I'll just run in to the dungeon and see for sure if the money is there. I do not honestly believe there is a soul in the house, but I can't rest until I know that money is safe."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," said Fairy, "you'll stay right here and wait with us. I do not believe there's any one in the house, either, but if there is, you shan't run into him by yourself. You stay right where you are, and don't be silly. Mr. Allan will do the investigating."

Every breath of wind against the windows drew startled cries from the younger girls, and both Fairy and Prudence were white with anxiety when they heard the loud voices of the Allans outside the kitchen door.

Prudence began crying nervously the moment the two angels of mercy appeared before her, and Fairy told their tale of woe.

"Well, there now," Mr. Allan said with rough sympathy, "you just got scared, that's all. Everything's suspicious when folks get scared. I told my wife the other day I bet you girls would get a good fright some time left here alone. Come on, Jim, and we'll go over the house in a jiffy."

He was standing near the dining-room door. He lifted his head suddenly, and seemed to sniff a little. There was undoubtedly a faint odor of tobacco in the house.

"Been any men in here to-night?" he asked. "Or this afternoon? Think, now!"

"No one," answered Prudence. "I was alone all afternoon, and there has been no one in this evening."

He pa.s.sed slowly through the dining-room into the hall, closely followed by his son and the five girls, already much rea.s.sured. As he pa.s.sed the dungeon door he paused for a moment, listening intently, his head bent.

"Oh, Mr. Allan," cried Prudence, "let's look in the dungeon first. I want to see if the money is safe." Her hand was already on the lock, but he shoved her away quickly.

"Is there any way out of that closet besides this door?" he asked.

"No. We call it the dungeon," laughed Prudence, her self-possession quite recovered. "It is right under the stairs, and not even a mouse could gnaw its way out, with this door shut."

"Who shut that door?" he inquired, still holding Prudence's hand from the lock. Then without waiting for an answer, he went on, "Let's go back in the other room a minute. Come on, all of you." In the living-room, he hurried to the telephone, and spoke to the operator in a low voice. "Call the police headquarters, and have them send two or three men to the Methodist parsonage, right away. We've got a burglar locked in a closet, and they'll have to get him out. Please hurry."

At this, the girls crowded around him again in renewed fear.

"Don't be scared," he said calmly, "we're all right. He's in there safe enough and can't get out for a while. Now, tell me about it. How did you get him in the closet? Begin at the beginning, and tell me all about it."

Carol began the story with keen relish. "I woke up, and thought I heard some one in the room. I supposed it was Prudence. I said, 'Prudence,' and n.o.body answered, and everything was quiet.' But I felt there was some one in there. I nudged Lark, and she woke up. He moved then, and we both heard him. He was fumbling at the dresser, and our ruby rings are gone. We heard him step across the room and into the closet. He closed the door after him, didn't he, Lark?"

"Yes, he did," agreed Lark. "His hand was on the k.n.o.b."

"So we sneaked out of bed, and went into Prudence's room and woke her and Fairy." She looked at Connie, and blushed. "Connie was asleep, and we didn't waken her because we didn't want to frighten her. We woke the girls,--and you tell the rest, Prudence."

"We didn't believe her, of course. We went back into their room and there was no one there. But the rings were gone. While they were looking at the dresser, I remembered that I forgot to lock the dungeon door, where we keep the money and the silverware, and I ran down-stairs and slammed the door and locked it, and went back up. I didn't hear a sound down-stairs."

Mr. Allan laughed heartily. "Well, your burglar was in that closet after the money, no doubt, and he didn't hear you coming, and got locked in. Did you make any noise coming down the stairs?"

"No. I was in my bare feet, and I tried to be quiet because if there was any one in the house, I did not want him coming at me in the dark.

I ran back up-stairs, and we looked in father's room. I thought father had forgotten to take his watch with him, but it wasn't there.--Do you really think it was Sunday he forgot it, Fairy?"

"No," said Fairy, "it was there this afternoon. The burglar's got it in the dungeon with him, of course.--I just said it was Sunday to keep from scaring the twins."

In a few minutes, they heard footsteps around the house and knew the officers had arrived. Mr. Allan let them into the house, four of them, and led them out to the hall. There could be no doubt whatever that the burglar was in the dungeon. He had been busy with his knife, and the lock was nearly removed. If the officers had been two minutes later, the dungeon would have been empty. The girls were sent up-stairs at once, with the Allan boy as guard,--as guard, without regard for the fact that he was probably more frightened than any one of them.

The chief officer rapped briskly on the dungeon door. Then he clicked his revolver.

"There are enough of us to overpower three of you," he said curtly.

"And we have men outside the house, too. If you make any disturbance, we shall all fire the instant the door is opened. If you put your firearms on the floor, and hold both hands over your head, you'll be well treated. If your hands are not up, we fire on sight. Get your revolvers ready, boys."

Then the officer opened the door. Evidently the burglar was wise enough to appreciate the futility of fighting against odds. Perhaps he did not wish to add the charge of manslaughter to that of robbery.

Certainly, he did not feel himself called to sudden death. At any rate, his hands were above his head, and in less than a second he was securely manacled.

The chief officer had been eying him closely. "Say!" he exclaimed.

"Aren't you Limber-Limb Grant?" The burglar grinned, but did not answer. "By jove!" shouted the officer. "It is! Call the girls down here," he ordered, and when they appeared, gazing at the burglar with mingled admiration, pity and fear, he congratulated them with considerable excitement.

"It's Limber-Limb Grant," he explained. "There's a reward of five hundred dollars for him. You'll get the money, as sure as you're born." Then he turned again to the burglar. "Say, Grant, what's a fellow like you doing on such a fifth-rate job as this? A Methodist parsonage is not just in your line, is it?"

Limber-Limb laughed sheepishly. "Well," he explained good-naturedly, "Chicago got too hot for me. I had to get out in a hurry, and I couldn't get my hands on any money. I had a fine lot of jewels, but I was so pushed I couldn't use them. I came here and loafed around town for a while, because folks said Mount Mark was so fast asleep it did not even wake up long enough to read the daily papers. I heard about this parsonage bunch, and knew the old man had gone off to get more religion. This afternoon at the station I saw a detective from Chicago get off the train, and I knew what that meant. But I needed some cash, and so I wasn't above a little job on the side. I never dreamed of getting done up by a bunch of preacher's kids. I went upstairs to get those family jewels I've heard about, and one of the little ones gave the alarm. I already had some of them, so I came down at once. I stopped in the dungeon to get that money, and first thing I knew the door banged shut. That's all. You're welcome to the five hundred dollars, ladies. Some one was bound to get it sooner or later, and I'm partial to the ladies, every time."

Limber-Limb Grant was a modern thief of the new cla.s.s. At that moment, in Chicago, he had in storage, a hundred thousand dollars' worth of jewels, which he could not dispose of on the pressure of the moment.

The law was crowding him close, and he was obliged to choose between meeting the law, or running away from it. He ran. He reached Mount Mark, and trusted to its drowsiness for concealment for a few weeks.

But that afternoon the arrival of a detective gave him warning, and he planned his departure promptly. A parsonage occupied by only five girls held no terrors for him, and with fifty dollars and a few fairly good jewels, a man of his talent could accomplish wonders.

But Mount Mark had aroused from its lethargy. Limber-Limb Grant was in the hands of the law.

Mr. Starr had been greatly interested in the accounts of the evangelistic services being held in Burlington. The workers were meeting with marked success, and Mr. Starr felt he should get in touch with them. So on Thursday morning he took the early east-bound train to Burlington. There he sought out a conveniently located second-cla.s.s hotel, and took up residence. He attended the services at the tabernacle in the afternoon and evening, and then went to bed at the hotel. He slept late the next morning. When he finally appeared, he noticed casually, without giving it thought, that the clerk behind the desk looked at him with marked interest. Mr. Starr nodded cheerfully, and the clerk came at once from behind the desk to speak to him. Two or three other guests, who had been lounging about, drew near.

"We've just been reading about your girls, sir," said the clerk respectfully. "It's a pretty nervy little bunch! You must be proud of them!"

"My girls!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Starr.

"Haven't you seen the morning paper? You're Mr. Starr, the Methodist minister at Mount Mark, aren't you?"

"I am! But what has happened to my girls? Is anything wrong? Give me the paper!"

Mr. Starr was greatly agitated. He showed it.

But the clerk could not lose this opportunity to create a sensation.

It was a chance of a life-time. "Why, a burglar got in the parsonage last night," he began, almost licking his lips with satisfaction. "The twins heard him at their dresser, and when he stepped into the closet they locked him in there, and yelled for the rest of the family. But he broke away from them, and went, down-stairs and climbed down into the dungeon to get the money. Then Prudence, she ran down-stairs alone in the dark, and locked him in the dungeon,--pushed him down-stairs or something like that, I believe,--and then telephoned for the police.

And she stayed on guard outside the dungeon until the police got there, so he couldn't get away. And the police got him, and found it was Limber-Limb Grant, a famous gentleman thief, and your girls are going to get five hundred dollars reward for catching him."

Five minutes later, Mr. Starr and his suit-case were in a taxicab speeding toward Union Station, and within eight minutes he was en route for Mount Mark,--white in the face, shaky in the knees, but tremendously proud in spirit.

Arriving at Mount Mark, he was instantly surrounded by an exclamatory crowd of station loungers. "Ride, sir? Glad to take you home for nothing," urged Harvey Reel. Mount Mark was enjoying more notoriety than ever before in the two hundred years of its existence. The name of Prudence was upon every tongue, and her father heard it with satisfaction. In the parsonage he found at least two-thirds of the Ladies' Aid Society, the trustees and the Sunday-school superintendent, along with a miscellaneous a.s.sortment of ordinary members, mixed up with Presbyterians, Baptists and a few uncla.s.sified outsiders. And Prudence was the center of attraction.

She was telling the "whole story," for perhaps the fifteenth time that morning, but she broke off when her father hurried in and flung her arms about him. "Oh, papa," she cried, "they mustn't praise me. I had no idea there was a burglar in the house when I ran down the stairs, and if I hadn't been careless and left the dungeon unlocked the money would have been in no danger, and if the twins hadn't wakened me I wouldn't have known there was a burglar about the place, and if Fairy hadn't kept me from rus.h.i.+ng out to the dungeon to see if the money was safe, he would have got away, and--it took the policemen to get him out. Oh, I know that is not very grammatical, father, but it's just as true as if it were! And I honestly can't see that much credit is due me."

But Mount Mark did not take it so calmly. And as for the Methodist church,--well, the Presbyterian people used to say there was "no living with those Methodists, since the girls caught a burglar in the parsonage." Of course, it was important, from the Methodist point of view. Pictures of the parsonage and the church were in all the papers for miles around, and at their very next meeting the trustees decided to get the piano the Sunday-school had been needing for the last hundred years!

When the five hundred dollars arrived from Chicago, Prudence felt that personally she had no real right to the money. "We must divide it,"

she insisted, "for I didn't earn it a bit more than any of the others.

But it is perfectly glorious to have five hundred dollars, isn't it?

Did you ever have five hundred dollars before? Just take it, father, and use it for whatever we need. It's family money."