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  "Oh! Oh!" she screamed. "It's terrible! Down here--in the cellar----!" (_Frontispiece_) (THE MYSTERY OF JOCKEY HOLLOW)

  _The Arden Blake Mystery Series_

  MYSTERY OF JOCKEY HOLLOW

  _By_ CLEO F. GARIS

  A. L. BURT COMPANY _Publishers_ New York Chicago

  _The Arden Blake Mystery Series_

  BY CLEO F. GARIS

  The Orchard Secret Mystery of Jockey Hollow Missing at Marshlands

  COPYRIGHT, 1934, BY A. L. Burt Company

  Mystery of Jockey Hollow

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  Contents

  CHAPTER PAGE I Fleeing in Alarm 7 II The Ghost Mansion 20 III Arden Wonders 30 IV Seeing the Dead 42 V Baffled 53 VI Introducing Granny 61 VII Trial by Jury 68 VIII The Ghost of Patience 75 IX A Warning 86 X The Missing Man 91 XI Callahan Collapses 98 XII A Strange Discovery 103 XIII Betty and the Books 113 XIV How Did It Happen? 120 XV Jim Doesn't Know 130 XVI A Surprise 140 XVII Some Real Investigating 148 XVIII The Figure in Red 157 XIX Santa Claus 168 XX Harry Hears Something 178 XXI Rift in the Clouds 185 XXII Arden's Idea 193 XXIII Mistletoe 205 XXIV A Strange Woman 214 XXV The Christmas Party 223 XXVI Two Ghosts 230 XXVII Frightened Screams 237 XXVIII Falling Stones 243

  CHAPTER I Fleeing in Alarm

  The proud old house rang with excitement. Nor was there any attempt tosuppress it. When no one but the three girls, the faithful Moselle, andher daughter Althea were in it, there seemed no reason to go all the wayup to Sim's room when a lusty shout up the stairs would answer the samepurpose. So Terry Landry stood with one foot on the bottom step, leanedagainst the banister, and again tried to make Sim hear her above theblatant music coming from the radio in the library where Arden Blake wassupposed to be listening, but Arden, instead, was curled up in a bigchair reading a book of ghost stories.

  "Oh, Arden! Will you please turn off that radio just a moment while Icall Sim?" Terry spoke in those evenly spaced, overly quiet tonessometimes effectively used to prevent one's temper from taking flight.

  "Hu--u--um!" came from the library as the radio was switched off. "What'sthe trouble?"

  "No trouble at all. Only I've shouted three times for Sim to come downand get this letter. But she must be asleep or something."

  "Letter? Let's see!" Arden reluctantly closed the book she had beenreading, uncurled herself from the depths of the chair, and came out inthe hall to Terry, who said:

  "It just came, and it's postmarked New York. Look at the size of theenvelope. I wish Sim would answer!" Terry repeated peevishly.

  "Of course, you could go up, you know," Arden suggested with a superiorair.

  Terry did not answer but tapped her foot impatiently, bringing into playa shining black patent-leather opera pump that was vaguely reflected inthe polished floor beneath. Terry wore lovely shoes.

  Arden took the letter and was examining it, front and back, femininefashion. A leading jurist once said that if a woman was given a letter orany piece of paper she would, without fail, turn it over and look on theother side. Arden, however, was rewarded, for on the reverse, in largered letters, was the name "Rita Keene."

  "It's from Dot's mother," exclaimed Arden. "I suppose it says Dot can'tcome. But I should think she'd be glad to have her daughter visit suchlovely girls as we are." Premeditated sarcasm here.

  "Are we lovely girls?" inquired a voice from the stair landing above."Seems to me I heard a little shouting."

  "Sim! Where were you? I've been shouting for ages!" Terry announced.

  "I know. I was phoning. I just called Ellery's. I thought we could go fora ride through Jockey Hollow. It's such a nice day, and we have themarketing done and everything." Sim, a rather small light-haired girl,already dressed in riding clothes, was descending the stairs as shespoke.

  "Open this letter first. It's addressed to you. From Dot's mother." Terryhanded over the missive as Arden made this demand on Sim.

  "You could have opened it," suggested Sim, carefully inserting a tinyshell-pink nail under the flap, in no hurry at all.

  "It says," she began, "'My dear Miss Westover: I shall be most happy tohave Dorothy spend the Christmas holidays with you. I am rehearsing in anew play and would have very little time to give her. I know you willenjoy yourselves. Cordially, Rita Keene.' That's all. Oh, no, it isn't,either. It says, also, that Dot will get here tomorrow on the eleveno'clock train. We'll meet her," Sim concluded.

  "Will you ask her, in due time, of course, to take her turn at doing themarketing?" Terry wanted to know.

  "A good thought," murmured Arden.

  While Sim's parents were spending Christmas in the South, Arden, Terry,and Sim had been entrusted with the running of the big town house. Ardenand Terry were Sim's guests over the holidays until it should be time toreturn to Cedar Ridge College, where they were freshmen. A last-momentidea had been to invite Dot Keene, also a freshman, to make one of thehouse party. Now, it appeared, Dot was coming.

  Although Arden and Terry had their own fine homes in Pentville, not farremoved from the Westover residence, they thought it much more fun tocome and live with Sim and help her manage over the Christmas vacation.Like all girls, they were sure they could do it if once given the chance.So when Mr. and Mrs. Westover decided to go South, and when it wasimpracticable, because of the projected length of their stay, to take Simwith them, they agreed to let the three girls try housekeeping.

  Moselle and her daughter Althea were there, of course, and would remainto do the housework. Moselle had been in service with the Westover familyever since Sim's baby days, and Althea, blacker, if possible, than hermother, was learning the ways of a parlormaid and waitress. Henry,husband of Moselle, was driving Sim's parents South in the big car. Asmall roadster had been left for Sim's use.

  "I don't know," spoke Sim in response to the suggestion of Terry and itsseconding by Arden, "I th
ink I'll have to wait until we are a littlebetter acquainted with Dot before suggesting marketing to her. I wouldn'tlike to embarrass her so soon. Which reminds me--what did you order forlunch, Terry?"

  "Lamb chops, baked potatoes, peas, salad, and some of Moselle's speciallemon meringue pie," Terry answered practically, licking her lips inappetizing anticipation.

  "Good!" exclaimed Arden and Sim in unison. And it was good.

  "Did you make a date to ride today, or did I imagine it?" Arden nextasked, getting back to the original subject.

  "I nearly forgot. Yes, I did. For half-past ten. You two hurry and changewhile I get the car out." Sim was already starting out of the front door,while her companions, murmuring about Sim's habit of letting things gountil almost the last minute, dashed up the stairs to the bright pleasantroom they shared in Sim's home.

  It did not take them long to get into riding clothes; warm woollenunderwear (for the weather was cold), heavy gloves, and hats pulled welldown. Terry and Arden wore light tan trousers with darker coats, whileSim sported a dark green coat with cocoa-colored trousers. Looking"snappy" was the main idea.

  Soon the three were sitting in the little roadster, Sim's last year'sChristmas present. They soon covered the short distance to the ElleryRiding School.

  The girls rode so frequently, every opportunity they had to be away fromCedar Ridge, that their favorite horses were ready for them when theyarrived. Dick Howe, the young groom and helper around the stable, openedthe door of the car.

  "Good-morning," he greeted them pleasantly and with a smile thatdisplayed to advantage his white even teeth against the background ofwell tanned cheeks. "Nice day for a ride. How long do you want to stayout?"

  "About two hours. What do you say, girls?" Sim asked. "Is that allright?"

  "Fine," answered Arden. "But couldn't we go a new way for a change?"

  "Yes, let's go by Sycamore Hall," suggested Terry.

  "Sycamore Hall?" questioned Dick.

  "Why not? We have time, and I like the hill there. It's so nice for acanter," Terry went on.

  "Certainly. Whatever you say," Dick agreed, with just a shade ofreluctance, it would seem.

  Their horses were led out, and Dick gave each of the girls a "leg up."Stirrups were adjusted, and away they cantered.

  Dick was a very proper young groom. He gave them a little trotting, somewalking, and just enough cantering. A good horseman, he sagely observed,never allowed his animal to get overheated, but saw to it that there wasthe proper amount of exercise for himself and his beast.

  Walking the horses, they reached the end of the paved highway and weresoon upon the dirt road that wound around through a stretch of woodlandinto Jockey Hollow, a Revolutionary historic section just outsidePentville, which, though it was so comparatively near, had seldom beenvisited by Sim and her two chums. It was a lovely wooded place,containing, now and then, a cleared field. With Jockey Hollow inprospect, a pleasant ride was assured the little party, and, though theydid not know it, the girls were to begin a strange adventure.

  Now well out into the open, the horses suddenly, of their own accord,broke into a trot with Sim and Terry in the lead. Arden followed withDick. The day was cool for December, and the horses seemed to feelfrisky. They liked it.

  "Don't let him get going too fast, Miss Westover," called the groom as hewatched Sim. "We take that left turn."

  Sim pulled her horse up, and Terry also stopped. They looked back atArden and Dick to make sure of the direction to take next. Dick smiledand pointed to a lane leading down a hill. Sim and Terry went that waybut more slowly.

  "This is a new way," Arden said. "Do you know that road?"

  Dick smiled slyly as he said, "I ought to. I live down there."

  "In Sycamore Hall?" Arden was surprised.

  "No, not in the Hall, but in a little house near it. With my grandmotherand sister. The Hall is soon going to be torn down to make way for a newroad through this section. Jockey Hollow is going to be made into anational park on account of it being connected in many ways with theRevolution."

  "Oh, it is?" asked Arden, interested. This was news. But the truth of thematter was that though she and her chums knew, in a vague way, aboutJockey Hollow, they had been, of late, so wrapped up in college life atCedar Ridge, they had lost track of local matters.

  Arden, suddenly occupied with guiding her horse, which evinced a desireto shy, did not pursue the subject with Dick. Through the trees she nowcaught a glimpse of the two-hundred-year-old mansion known as SycamoreHall. There were many stories about it, one or two concerned with themore or less established fact that it still contained certain objectssupposed to belong to the descendants of the original owners, whoeverthey were. No one now lived in the Hall, nor had it housed anyone forsome time. In spite of its age, the old mansion, though woefully lackingpaint, was well preserved. It was as strong and sturdy as some ancientoak tree.

  Sim and Terry, in the lead, had approached Sycamore Hall and were waitingfor Arden and Dick to reach them. The two girls gazed, not withoutinterest, at the deserted mansion. There were evidences about it of somenew and strange life. There were dump carts, but no horses, some piles ofboards, and, near the drive, an old flivver that seemed impossible ofbeing used.

  From within the ancient mansion came dull blows, as of pounding, and outof some open windows floated a fine dust, like smoke.

  "Is the place on fire?" asked Arden as she and Dick spurred their horsesforward.

  "No. But I guess they've already started to tear it down. A new road isgoing right through the old place." Dick seemed to sigh a little.

  "What a shame," murmured Arden. "It's too bad such a historic place can'tbe preserved."

  "I guess it's too old to preserve," Dick said. "Though they are going tomake a park of the Hollow and save some of the smaller houses that wereused by Washington or Mad Anthony Wayne or some of the Revolutionaryfolks."

  "How interesting!" exclaimed Arden. "I wonder----"

  But she never finished that sentence. Just at that moment somethinghappened.

  Two big Negroes, one carrying a crowbar and the other an ax, came fairlyleaping out of the open front door of Sycamore Hall. They were mouthingsomething unintelligible and seemed to be rushing straight for Sim andTerry.

  "Oh! Oh!" gasped Arden. "Oh, Dick, what is this?"

  Straight for Sim ran the two Negroes, their ragged clothes white withplaster dust. They were still mumbling and waving their hands in aterrified way. This was too much for the nervous horse on which Sim wasmounted. He reared sharply, nearly throwing the girl off, though she hada good seat, and then, wheeling, the beast ran wildly up the road pastSycamore Hall.

  Terry managed to control her animal, though he too showed a desire tobolt.

  "Oh, Dick!" cried Arden again.

  "I'll get her!" shouted the young groom, and spurring his mount he dashedaway after Sim. Left to themselves, Arden and Terry looked at each otherwith frightened eyes. The two colored men ran into the woods across fromthe Hall, still mumbling in a strange way and showing every evidence ofterrible fright.

  "Come on, Terry, we've got to follow!" called Arden.

  They urged their steeds after those of Sim and Dick. When they reachedthe top of the hill they could see that Sim was safe. Dick had dismountedand was holding her still frightened animal. Sim was soothing thecreature with neck-pattings and calming words.

  "Heavens, Sim! What happened?" gasped Arden.

  "Those men scared Teddy, rushing at him that way, though why, I don'tknow. I wonder what the idea was, having them dash out in that wild way?If I had been standing a little nearer they would have run right intoTeddy and me! They couldn't seem to turn off. They were wild with fright.But why?" Sim was a little indignant.

  Dick smiled up at her. "Haven't you heard?" he asked.

  "Heard what?"

  The other girls listened with interest.

  "Why, this old place is said to have become suddenly haunted. Somethingin Sycamore Hall has stirred
up the spirits of the departed owners, andmore than once the Negroes and Italians hired to tear it down have beenscared away--frightened stiff. A lot have quit. I understand thecontractor has continually to get new men. And it looked as if those twowho ran out saw something--or thought they did," Dick concluded. "Theyprobably won't come back."

  "Haunted!" murmured Terry.

  "Ghosts--Revolutionary ghosts," whispered Sim.

  "How thrilling!" exclaimed Arden. "Tell us some more, Dick."

  "Well----" began the groom, but he got no further.

  Back up the hill came running the same two Negroes who had but a fewminutes before rushed out of the mansion in such a terrified way. Theirfaces still bore signs of their fright.