CHAPTER VII.

RENFRO TAKES THE EYEBROWS.

Renfro’s hand trembled so that he could hardly pull his knife from his trousers pocket. It was followed by a notebook, from which he tore two sheets of paper. Quickly he opened the blade, the thinnest of the three in his knife, warmed it with several breaths and then slipped it under one of the frozen eyebrows on the window pane.

Zip! It came off--frozen, intact, as solid as it had been when left on the frozen pane. Carefully Renfro wrapped it in one of the pieces of paper. By the same process the other portion of an eyebrow was likewise treated. With both precious packages of what he considered a magnificent clue stored safely in his most secure inner pocket Renfro shouldered his now empty paper bag and started toward home.

The desire to journey out to the big Hall house was almost overpowering him. But wisdom warned him against making the trip. It was late--it would be eight o’clock before he could get home. If he arrived later than that there would surely be a family conclave held, the decision of which might mean that tho he continued to carry his paper route he would be given no time to either get new subscribers or to follow the clue which fate had thrust into his hand.

Renfro was almost stunned with his good fortune. In his pocket was the only clue which, according to the latest reports he had heard, had yet been found. And he was going to keep it and work it out himself. The chief of detectives had laughed once, the next laugh would be at his expense, Renfro vowed, and because he had discovered a clue to the identity of the person or persons who had kidnaped Helen Wier.

All the way home on the car he kept his hand pressed over the pocket in which was the clue. Off the car, walking down the home avenue he watched surreptitiously for a possible bandit. No lady of rank ever guarded her jewels any more closely than Renfro Horn did the two mysterious eyebrows.

All around him the bitter wind stung and lashed and hurt like a keen edged knife. It drove white hard clouds across the sky and at times hid the moon. But still it was a much lighter night than the one preceding it had been. Neither Helen Wier nor any other girl could be successfully kidnaped on a night like this.

“But detectives could follow a clue mighty well,” Renfro turned in at his own walk, and patted his chest, “only right now they haven’t any clue.”

His father who had just come past the police headquarters on his way home from the office, gave testimony that his conclusion was right. The clue suggested by Miss Turpin about the men implicated in the election frauds was being traced down but no one hoped for any results.

While they were at dinner Mrs. Horn who had been doubly uneasy over Renfro’s lateness and also his father’s, voiced her complaints in fretful language. Mr. Horn, provoked as always by his wife’s fussing moods issued sharp orders to Renfro, “No trips out at night onto that route,” he said, “and hereafter you be home at six thirty. Do you understand?”

Renfro nodded, and reaching into his pocket pulled out the rules Morrison had given him the first day. “Dad,” he said soberly, “Every business has its own rules, and the Globe’s carrier system has its own. You expect your employees to follow yours if they expect to rise in your business. If I’m to rise to success with the Globe I’ll have to follow these.”

His mother’s eyes were distinctly hostile but Renfro looked away from them straight into his father’s interested ones, then back to his paper and read his rules in a clear, determined boyish voice--

“Never fail to deliver a subscriber.

“A good carrier will get two new subscribers and increase his route two each week.

“Bills must be paid when due. Only lame ducks pay part of their bills.”

Mrs. Horn sniffed scornfully, caught a gleam of authority in her husband’s eyes, rose with a rather indifferent apology and strolled into the library. At a nod from his father Renfro read on--

“Collect your route thoroughly once a week. The meanest man in the world is the man who would beat a newspaper carrier.

“Tell your customers you come thru the snow and rain and cold six times a week to their door, for their accommodation, and ask them if they can’t arrange once a week to have your money for you.

“Get your delivery thru as quickly as possible. The mothers want to read the Globe before the fathers come home for supper.

“And remember the quitters fail while the boys who respond to responsibility always succeed as boys and as men.”

When he finished his reading Renfro carefully folded the paper and put it back into his pocket. He heard his father cough, looked up, caught his wink and rather low declaration, “I recall my command. These rules are about the best things I ever heard. Obey them--that’s all.”

Renfro ventured audible thanks. But he cautiously remained in the dining room when his father left for the library. He knew that his father would have it out with his mother and that it would be much better if he were not a listener to their argument. Besides he wanted to see Mary.

With his hands in his pockets he strolled into the kitchen, watched Mary stir something into a batter and then carelessly asked, “Did you see Captain Pete today, Mary?”

To his surprise Mary nodded, “You did, Mary,” he ejaculated, “How did he look?”

“Cross--fierce like to be sure,” Mary returned. “I didn’t buy none of his rabbits. They weren’t fresh like. And he had the nerve to argue with me that frozen rabbits is allus good even if they wuz froze the week before last.”

A straight look at Mary, and a little delay on Renfro’s part. Then he smiled scornfully at himself. Experience had taught him that no one could be trusted better than Mary. Slowly he pulled the two pieces of paper out of his pocket, laid them on the table, unfolded them so as not to disturb the arrangement of their contents and called Mary.

In a low, guarded tone he told Mary of the man who had crouched at Judge Wier’s window, of his trying to follow him and of the finding of the eyebrows. “They’re my clue, Mary,” he ended proudly, “You’re going to help me find the man who has these missing eyebrows and who kidnaped or who helped kidnap Helen Wier--aren’t you?” And he breathed deeply. “Without the help or knowledge of any member of the detective force.”

“Yes, yes,” Mary whispered, her sibilant tones high with excitement. “I’ll help you and just us two will do it. I know how to follow that clue. Them detective lessons will come in handy now. I was just beginning to think that mebbe I had wasted my money but now I know and--”

“Mary,” Renfro’s hand clasped over her arm, “Did you notice this afternoon? Were Captain Pete’s eyebrows--”

“Why I couldn’t see them,” she whispered back. “He had a long scarf over his head and Hooch, it came clean down to his very eyes. You don’t think it was him--do you, Hooch?”

Renfro shook his head. “But we’re going to watch everybody who is old and who might be a criminal or a maniac or who could have had some reason for kidnaping Helen Wier. In other words we’ve got to find the man with the missing eyebrows.”

Mary nodded vigorously.

“And, Mary,” Renfro was folding the paper again, “We’ve got to be very careful of these same missing eyebrows which are our only definite clue. I’ll hide them away carefully.”

His mother called him just then to hunt her a book he had been reading a few days before. She was still decidedly cool in her treatment toward him. But Renfro was more courteous than usual and before he left the room to go to bed, she was quite motherly to him.

In bed Renfro reviewed the day’s happenings and tried to map out a plan for the rest of the week. He must do his route work first. That was his job. Then when each day’s work was over he could follow the clue. If only the detectives failed to find Helen Wier he was sure he could.

“And I must get my new subscribers,” he was ready to close his eyes. “The paper says two new subscribers a week, but my record must be five a day for a time if I get those turkeys. And I must have them. I’ve promised Mary.”

Before he left for school the next morning he slipped into the kitchen and bantered with Mary a minute or two. “I’ve earned two of your turkeys, Mary,” he told her, “So be finding out ways to dress and cook them.”

Then he explained to her the system he was following in order to win them. At the back door he gave her a last word of advice. “Mary, if Captain Pete or any mean looking stranger comes to our door, look at his eyebrows if you have to sit on him to do it,” he smiled.

“All right, Hooch,” Mary promised in return.