The Counterfeit Mystery Read online

  Her voice sounded very gay as she hung up, and Ted was relieved. Of course he had known that Margaret would be understanding about Nancy—simply because she was that sort of girl.

  CHAPTER 6

  AN INCIDENT ON THE ROAD

  Early Monday morning found Ted in the Town Crier office, explaining as carefully as he could about his discovery. Mr. Dobson listened very carefully, a worried frown on his face.

  “I don’t know, Ted,” said the editor, when Ted had concluded. “It’s something very hard to judge. When you are handling merchandise that is non-competitive, you can put almost any price on it you please. Your only limitation is the price people are willing to pay, and one of the things about this stamp plan is that people don’t know exactly what they are paying.”

  “But isn’t there some way of finding out for certain whether the stamps pay 2 per cent or 3 per cent?” asked Ted anxiously. Time was running out, he knew. The Kirtland advertisement would be on its way to the presses in a few hours, and after that the newspaper would be committed to the Blue Harvest stamp plan, whether they liked it or not.

  “Oh, yes, there’s a very simple way.” Mr. Dobson smiled. “All I have to do is call up Mr. Kirtland and ask him what price his store is paying for the stamps.”

  Ted grinned, too, amazed that he hadn’t thought of such a simple plan. This should settle it once and for all. He watched as Mr. Dobson dialed a number, and because the call went through directly to Mr. Kirtland, Ted knew that Mr. Dobson also had Mr. Kirtland’s private number.

  “He’s an early riser, too,” the editor explained with his hand over the mouthpiece as he waited for the phone to ring. “Oh, hello, Mr. Kirtland? This is Chris Dobson. I wanted to get clear on the price you’re paying for the Blue Harvest stamps.”

  At last Mr. Dobson put down the receiver, and turned to Ted, frowning.

  “Things aren’t too good, Ted. Mr. Kirtland is paying only 2 per cent for the stamps. It simply isn’t reasonable that the stores would pay only 2 per cent for the stamps and that the Blue Harvest company would then redeem them at 3 per cent. I’m very much afraid that three dollars is more nearly the correct value of a book of stamps, and that Mr. Woodring has been selling you a bill of goods.”

  Ted’s face fell. When once he had found out a person was lying to him, he was inclined to lose confidence altogether.

  “What do we do now?” asked Ted, discouraged. He was hoping Mr. Dobson would tell him he didn’t have to go back to Mr. Woodring’s office again.

  “Let’s think this through very carefully, Ted,” the editor cautioned. “I admit that if I’d had this information a week ago I would have been much more careful about endorsing the plan. But now that I have endorsed it, it’s pretty hard for me to back out, unless I can produce definite evidence of fraud.”

  “He said the plan paid 3 per cent, and it pays only two,” said Ted bitterly.

  “All right, he said that to us, but he didn’t say that to Mr. Kirtland or to the other stores, as far as I know. He isn’t telling the store customers the plan pays 3 per cent. It isn’t on any of the newspaper advertising, or the store displays. So, then, who’s getting cheated? Mr. Kirtland is perfectly satisfied. He’s much more familiar with merchandising than I am, and he believes that his customers will be getting good value for their stamps.”

  “Mr. Woodring explained it to me as 3 per cent,” Ted pointed out, “and I was supposed to say the same thing to people who inquired.”

  “No, Ted, I don’t think so. I think Mr. Woodring, in a first burst of enthusiasm, told us the plan was 3 per cent. He must have been desperately anxious to get the newspaper’s support in order to start the plan in Forestdale. You’ve noticed that he’s not a very smooth person. He’s not only new at the job—for of course Blue Harvest is a rather new firm—but the whole business is new to him. Of course he never dreamed that you’d sit down and try to figure out the percentage yourself. And notice that he never repeated to anyone that the plan paid 3 per cent, until you put him on the spot, and he felt he had to make some sort of explanation. I think as far as Mr. Woodring is concerned he’d like to forget that whole 3 per cent business. Let’s just chalk it up to excess enthusiasm.”

  “But the stamps really do pay only 2 per cent.”

  “Yes, Ted, I don’t think there can be much question about that. Mr. Woodring’s explanation reminds me of a person trading in a used car on a new car. The dealer may give an extra allowance on the old car but add the same amount on to the price of the new car. Mr. Woodring wants to raise the value of the stamps, while he also raises the price of his premiums.”

  “And five books still buy a doll, no matter what the books and the doll are worth.”

  “Exactly, Ted.”

  “Then what do we do, go on just as though nothing has happened?”

  “I wish we could, Ted.” The editor considered. “As long as he doesn’t repeat this 3 per cent business to anyone else, I think we can drop that angle. No, there’s something else that worries me much more. Here’s a letter I got in this morning’s mail.”

  As he took it from the envelope, Ted saw that it had come by air mail. Somebody must have been in a hurry about something.

  Mr. Dobson took out the letter and reread it before explaining to Ted. “It’s from that friend of mine, at Beacon, Jones and Western in Chicago. He tells me that Mr. Woodring was not employed ten years ago by either Beacon and Jones or by Western.”

  “Then he really is lying, after all,” said Ted, with a kind of tired conviction.

  “Yes, I’m afraid it is a lie, Ted, but just how important a lie it is I don’t know. After all, Mr. Woodring didn’t give us any written statement that he was employed there, and whether he was or not has very little bearing on his stamp plan. Perhaps he merely made an idle remark.”

  “But when you deliberately say something that’s not true at all—”

  “Well, Ted, I don’t say I like it. But, as I said, Mr. Woodring is new at the business, and he may have thought he could earn my confidence by making some such casual remark without dreaming I had a way of checking up on him. No, I don’t discount a man altogether, just because he told some small lie that doesn’t seem to have any importance anyway. I wish it hadn’t happened, but it still doesn’t change the stamp situation. The people behind the plan are reliable, and Mr. Kirtland is satisfied.”

  “Then you’re going on with the campaign?”

  “Yes, Ted, I don’t think there’s anything else I can do. At the same time I appreciate very much that you brought this matter to my attention, and I’m glad I’ve got you there, just in case anything else of this kind comes up. However, just one thing more would be the last straw, as far as I’m concerned. You can forgive a few small mistakes, but you don’t have to go on until they add up to one big mistake.”

  Since it was time for Ted to be getting to work, he said good-by and left, just as Miss Monroe and Nancy arrived. He wanted to ask Nancy about the hayride, but he was late, and he didn’t like to ask her in front of the others, anyway.

  “I’ll call you tonight, Nancy,” he promised.

  “All right, Ted, I’ll be waiting.”

  At the office Mr. Woodring seemed as cordial as ever, having either overlooked or forgotten the tension between them on the previous Friday. He was in a hurry, however, and after giving Ted a few instructions for the day, took his leave. He returned a moment later, to give Ted a key to the office, as he had promised.

  “Sorry, Ted, but this is my only key. You’ll be able to get out for lunch, but I guess you’ll have to wait till I get back before going home.”

  This was all right with Ted, since this is what he would have preferred to do anyway. The morning proved fairly busy. A number of telephone inquiries came in. He was able to steer several persons toward making an appointment, some simply wanted information that Ted was able to supply at on
ce, and two had more complicated questions. Ted promised them that he would look up the information himself, or if he was unable to get it, ask Mr. Woodring and call back with it as soon as he could. Tracking down this information through the various leaflets Mr. Woodring had left took him quite a while, and he was not yet finished when Nelson stopped in, just a few minutes before noon.

  “Thought we’d have lunch together,” Nelson remarked, “or are you too busy to eat?”

  “Oh, I’m never that busy,” Ted admitted, glancing at the clock. “I wanted to get this done before noon, but I guess I can’t, so we might as well go now, if you want to.”

  Ted locked up, and after a little discussion about where they ought to eat, they got Into Nelson’s car, and he drove toward a roadside stand a few miles out of town which was a favorite spot for their crowd.

  “Did you get your invitation to the hayride all right?” Nelson inquired.

  “Yes. I’m taking Nancy, if she’ll go with me. Who are you going with?”

  “Jane Yuleson. I don’t know how she came to ask me. I’ve never been out with her before.”

  “Oh, I guess the girls must have parceled us out among themselves,” said Ted with a grin, but not explaining his conversation with Margaret.

  “That’s pretty good, a hayride. I thought all the farms around here were mechanized. I wonder why Mr. Smith keeps horses?”

  “Probably to rent them out to hayride parties. Say, are you sure his name is Smith? I thought it was Smithdale.”

  “That’s the name of his farm. His name is Smith.”

  Nelson drove on in silence for a moment. “Listen, Ted, if it’s none of my business, just say so, but how are you and Margaret running along? Is Nancy breaking you up?”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. Margaret knows she comes first with me. But with college and everything facing us, we’re not ready to get tied down yet.”

  Arriving at the spot, Nelson guided the car into a narrow parking space to the side of the restaurant. They found a few of their friends inside and during the conversation that followed—a general, confused conversation that quickly jumped from one topic to another—mention was made of the Blue Harvest stamps. Ted was asked how soon the plan was going into effect.

  “Tomorrow morning,” he informed them. “Read all about it in the Town Crier—.”

  Then an argument developed over the merits of such stamp plans, with the girls inclined to be in favor and the boys opposed. Ted was asked for his opinion.

  “I’m neutral,” he replied good-naturedly. “If it works, I’m for it. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  Then the conversation took a different turn, and the stamps were forgotten.

  After returning to the office, Ted was able to complete the jobs he had begun before lunch and called back the parties with good results. They, too, were now ready to make appointments, and Ted felt he would have good news for Mr. Woodring. He arrived about four o’clock, which was a little earlier than Ted had expected him, and was pleased with Ted’s report.

  “Looks like things are beginning to take hold. Ted, I’m not through for the day yet. I’m on my way over to North Ridge, and I thought you might like to ride along.”

  “Sure thing,” Ted agreed quickly, “only I thought you didn’t expect to get much business in North Ridge.”

  “Not from the big stores, but some of the little places are feeling the effects of the stiff competition they’re getting and are looking rather desperately for some gimmick to help them stay in business. I’m all for efficiency, but when I can see a way to help the little fellow, I think that’s a pretty worth-while thing, too. I have an appointment with the editor of the News-Record, to see what sort of help he’ll be willing to give me. You’re acquainted with people on the paper there, aren’t you?”

  “Well, I only know the editor by sight. But I’m a friend of Ken Kutler’s, and he’s their reporter.”

  “Yes, I thought it was something like that. That’s why I suggested you might like to come along.”

  They found Ken Kutler just emerging from the office, and Ted introduced the men. Having heard further details of then-long friendship, Mr. Woodring suggested that Ted stay and talk to Ken while he went inside. Ted found himself liking the man in spite of those nagging little doubts in the back of his mind.

  “Well, Ted, how goes it?” asked Ken when they were alone.

  “Oh, not very much stirring. Anything doing with you?”

  “Not a thing. This is the dullest summer I’ve ever gone through. You’re not holding out on me, are you, Ted? There’s nothing big you’re trying to cover up?”

  “No danger.” Ted grinned. “If there were, you’d have had wind of it by this time.”

  “Well, I’ll repeat what I’ve said before, Ted. If we do come up against each other, it’ll be no holds barred this time. But it doesn’t look as though anything will come up in the few weeks you’ll still be in town.”

  “Then you’ll still have Carl Allison to worry about,” Ted reminded him.

  “Allison?” Ken rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I haven’t yet felt I had to worry about him, though you never can tell. The way I look at Allison right now, he’s just a person who’s holding a newspaper job. I don’t know yet whether he’s a real newspaperman.”

  “How will you be able to tell?” asked Ted.

  “Oh, there’ll be signs—plenty of them. It’s kind of hard to explain, Ted. But I guess the best word I can find to describe it is class. If he’s got class, the kind of class that shows a person really belongs, it’ll show up sooner or later. And if he hasn’t got it, that’ll soon show up, too. When I find out for sure, I’ll let you know.”

  They talked over family affairs and past experiences for a while, until Mr. Woodring came out of the office. Then the men shook hands again, and Ted and Mr. Woodring drove off.

  “It didn’t take long,” Ted observed. “Good news?”

  “Good enough, Ted. He’s going to give us some publicity, and that’s all I could reasonably expect. The way I feel about it, this has been a highly satisfactory day. You didn’t find much time to read today, did you?”

  Ted shook his head. “No, I didn’t, although I hadn’t planned to, anyway. I thought it mightn’t look right.”

  “I wouldn’t have minded, but just the same I’m glad you were so busy you didn’t have time. I keep a couple of books in my glove compartment, just in case I find myself with a little time to kill.”

  “Do you do quite a bit of reading, Mr. Woodring?”

  “I used to, when I was younger and had more time for it.”

  Ted ventured a more personal question. “Have you had a vacation this summer, Mr. Woodring?”

  “Well, I was between jobs for a while early in the summer, if you call that a vacation. I’ve got a little cabin back up in the hills”—he made a jerking motion with his head—“that’s a wonderful place to relax. I think it’s one of the most beautiful spots in the world—a little green plateau beneath a cliff overlooking two waterfalls. You can almost toss a bare hook into the mountain stream and get all the fish you can eat. There’s hunting, too, although I’ve never cared much for that. Luckily the tourists haven’t found it yet. When they do, it’ll be spoiled.”

  “Then I won’t ask you where it is,” said Ted, grinning.

  “Well, it’s—”

  Whatever Mr. Woodring intended to say was lost as he suddenly swerved the car and slammed on the brake. The car bounced crazily for a moment, but came to a safe stop several feet from the ditch which bordered the road. It all happened so quickly that Ted had no time to feel frightened.

  “What was it?” he asked.

  “Some small animal—I couldn’t quite tell what it was—in the shadow of that little dip in the road.”

  “Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” Ted remarked, turning his head
to stare out the window.

  Carefully Mr. Woodring backed the car out onto the road, and they drove on at a somewhat slower rate.

  “That was a reckless thing to do,” he decided. “It’s just that I’ve always liked animals—I always had some sort of pet when I was a kid. I have to apologize to you, Ted.”

  “No, you don’t. I understand. I like animals, too.”

  The incident was not mentioned again, but Ted felt mixed up about Mr. Woodring. Certainly a man who would risk his own life to save some unknown animal crouching in the dip of a dusky road must have some fine qualities even though you couldn’t believe everything he said.

  CHAPTER 7

  WHAT COLOR IS THE COW?

  When ted called Nancy that evening, he found her enthusiastic about the hayride, but she brought up a point that bothered her.

  “Ted, you’re all friends—you’ve been to school together for years. And I won’t know anybody there. Maybe they won’t want a stranger.”

  “They wouldn’t have told me to ask you if they didn’t want you. Anyway, you’ll be acquainted by then. I’ll take you around a few places during the week, if you’ll let me, and you’ll get to know everybody.”

  “That would be fun, Ted. You said that the girls are planning the lunch? Maybe they’ll let me help.”

  “I’ll bet they’ll be glad for all the help they can get.”

  This was the way things were arranged, and Ted found that Nancy fitted easily and pleasantly into their crowd. Though she came from a large and distant city and Forestdale was quite a small town, she didn’t make comparisons. The others quickly accepted her, and she soon found herself treated as though she had been one of them for years.

  On Tuesday morning Kirtland’s announced the Blue Harvest plan with a full-page advertisement in the Town Crier, and there was also a news item about it on the front page. Mr. Dobson did not make a practice of tying in his news columns with the advertising, but in this case he evidently felt the Blue Harvest stamps were a legitimate item of news, something of concern to the whole town. Ted heard later from his mother that Kirtland’s had done an unusual volume of business for a Tuesday.