CHAPTER XV What The Book Revealed

Midnight lights burned brightly in the Fairaday laboratory. A group of tense watchers, Madge and Mr. Brownell, Jack, and Mr. and Mrs. Brady, stood watching Anne who was busy at the work table. Clyde Wendell, guarded by a forest ranger, sat propped carelessly back in his chair, a look of amused contempt on his face.

“Well, I’m afraid it’s a failure,” Anne said in a subdued tone. She smiled bravely but her face was wan. “We’ve tested each page except the back cover.”

Jack looked accusingly at Wendell.

“You could tell us how to bring out that formula if you would!”

“Perhaps, if there were a formula,” the chemist retorted. “Now that this nonsense is over, am I free to go?”

“You are not.”

All eyes focused upon Anne as she gave the final sheet the chemical test which had been applied to the other pages. As she removed it from the iodine bath a few minutes later, Madge, who was close at her friend’s side, bent closer. Scattered lines, at first indistinct and unconnected, gradually as if by magic, lengthened and conformed into written characters.

“It’s the formula!” she cried exultingly.

Mr. Brownell moved nearer. His face, passive until now, became animated. He studied the page which Anne held up for his inspection and then said quietly: “It’s the genuine thing. Miss Fairaday, I congratulate you.”

For a few minutes Clyde Wendell was forgotten. When Madge looked at him she saw that he had lost his arrogant assurance. He arose and with a gesture of submission faced Jack.

“You win. I didn’t think Miss Fairaday could bring out the writing. I suppose this means prison for me. I’m ready to leave whenever you say.”

“Why did you do it?” Madge asked. “Can’t you explain?”

For the first time, the chemist appeared slightly ashamed.

“It’s a long story,” he said slowly. “Mr. Fairaday and I never clicked very well. He didn’t trust me and I resented it. At first I helped him with his rust prevention experiments, then he began to work in secret. I guessed that he had made an important discovery. I watched him and learned that he had written the formula in that book.”

He indicated the dismantled “Kim,” smiling wryly.

“Before I had a chance to read the formula, Mr. Fairaday discharged me. I found another job. Then three months ago I lost it. I thought I’d develop a rust prevention formula of my own because I was hard up for money. I found I couldn’t do it. Then I read of Mr. Fairaday’s death and knowing that he had never done anything with his formula in a commercial way, I decided to come here and see if I could get it. You know the rest.”

“Then you were the one who entered the house that night?” Anne demanded. “You were searching for the book.”

“Yes, I wasn’t after the silver. I took that merely to throw you off the track. I’m not a common thief. I don’t know what made me try to steal the formula. When a fellow’s down and out—broke—well, I guess things look different.”

Anne, Madge and Jack held a private conference. Presently, Anne turned again to Clyde.

“I’ve decided not to testify against you,” she said. “I’m sure Father wouldn’t want me to. I have the formula and that’s all that really matters. I believe you’re sorry for what you did.”

“I am sorry,” the chemist mumbled, avoiding her eyes. “You’re more decent than I deserve.”

“As far as the canoe is concerned, the boys will be willing to drop the charge,” Jack added.

“And Aunt Madge just said she wouldn’t press the board and room bill,” Madge interposed. “You can pay it later.”

“You’re free to go,” Jack told him. “Clear out and be glad you got off so easily.”

After the chemist had left, the atmosphere became more friendly. Anne refused to talk business that night but the following day she conferred with Mr. Brownell and to the delight of her friends sold the formula for a sum which guaranteed her a modest income for life. Her first act was to pay off the mortgage on her house and island, and then, to Jake Curtis’ bitter anger, she refused to even discuss a sale with him. Mr. Brownell had taken a great liking to Loon Lake and upon learning that Anne intended to live with an aunt in the city, he offered her a price for her property which left her quite dazed. Madge urged her to sell, and after brief negotiations, she arranged all details of the transaction to her satisfaction.

With business matters cleared away, Anne spent a few weeks at the lodge before leaving for the east. The days were crammed with good times and it was difficult for the girls to say goodbye.

“I owe everything to you,” Anne said for perhaps the hundredth time, as they stood at the railway station awaiting the train. “I’ll never forget this summer and all you’ve done for me, Madge. I’ll come back and see you often too.”

The train that carried Anne to New York brought Madge a letter—an invitation to spend two weeks at Cheltham Bay, cruising aboard the luxurious Burnett yacht. As she dispatched an enthusiastic acceptance, she little dreamed of the exciting adventure that awaited her. The story of Madge’s queer reception at Cheltham Bay is recounted in the second volume of this series, entitled: “The Deserted Yacht.”

Jack French did not accept the news of Madge’s intended departure very cheerfully.

“Why, I’ve scarcely had a chance to see you this summer,” he protested as they walked alone one evening. “Here you’re leaving in a week and I’d made all sorts of plans.”

“You know you’ll be too busy to even miss me,” Madge teased.

She was surprised at the look which came into Jack’s eyes.

“I’ll miss you like everything, and you know it too, imp! Since the day you came to Loon Lake, just an undersized, freckled kid, you’ve been the only girl for me. You’re the sweetest—” he broke off.

“Go on!” Madge urged, laughing.

Jack shook his head and smiled.

“No, until you grow a few years you must take it for granted. But while you’re at Cheltham Bay you might think of me once in a while. And don’t be too surprised if you see me!”

He took her hand and together they went down to the lake to watch the moon rise over the spruce ridges.

THE END