Tish Marches On by Mary Roberts Rinehart Page B

escape.
    We had barely time to throw off our hats, wipe our faces, and dump the trap, butterfly net, cheese, flashlight, and shoe blacking into a closet when he was hammering at the window. By that time, however, Tish had sat down and picked up her knitting, and she merely glanced up.
    “See what that is, Lizzie,” she said calmly.
    I let him in, and I must say he looked astonished when he saw us. He took off his cap and mopped his forehead.
    “Sorry, ladies,” he said, “but the people on the second floor have had some burglars, and I sure thought I saw them come in here.”
    “Burglars?” said Tish. “What burglars? There are no burglars here, I assure you.”
    “I saw them clear,” he said. “They had masks on.”
    Aggie sneezed violently, but Tish went on with her knitting.
    “Dear me,” she said. “Masks! I know they wear gloves, but masks! What did they take, officer?”
    “They tried to take a blueberry pie,” he said.
    Here again Aggie sneezed and he looked at her with suspicion. But in the end Tish gave him some cordial and he became more friendly. He said his name was O’Brien; shall I ever forget it! And when he finally departed we heard him going down the fire escape and singing a song about a policeman’s lot not being a happy one.
    I must admit that my nerves were badly shaken, and Aggie implored us to abandon all search for a mouse that night. Tish, however, was firm.
    “We have given our promise,” she said, “and we are engaged in nothing nefarious. I have no intention of coming into conflict with the law.”
    In the end we agreed. As Mr. Beilstein’s shop around the corner closed at ten o’clock, we took an immediate departure in Tish’s car, placing in it the butterfly net, cheese, flashlight, mousetrap, and shoe blacking. I must say for Aggie’s acumen that we had gone only a short distance when she stated that a car was following us, and it is our misfortune that we did not listen to her.
    But we were occupied with other matters. Mr. Beilstein was very amiable and even said that he had already sprinkled some cheese about.
    “Not that I guarantee anything,” he said. “I don’t carry meat on the hoof, so to speak! But I wish you luck, ladies.”
    He then said that there was a spring lock on the front door so that we could leave when ready, and showed us down to the cellar. It was clean but cold, butchers not apparently requiring heat, and Aggie started to sneeze immediately, greatly to Tish’s annoyance.
    The cellar looked exceedingly promising, and it appeared to be a matter of only a brief time when we would have secured our mouse and returned to our beds.
    It required but a few moments to blacken our faces, and almost at once Tish discovered a large hole in a corner and outlined our strategy.
    “It should be quite simple,” she said. “Before I turn out the lights I shall place the trap. On hearing any sounds Aggie will turn on the flashlight, thus blinding the creature, and in case it escapes the trap I shall be ready with the net.”
    It was thus arranged, and in a short time we were plunged into the cold darkness. I was shivering myself, and I could hear Aggie’s teeth hitting together with a sharp clicking noise, alternating with suppressed sneezes. But for a long time nothing happened. There was no pitter-patter of tiny feet, no sounds from the trap. In due time we heard Mr. Beilstein depart, and then to my horror Aggie moved to me in the dark and clutched my arm.
    “There’s sobebody up above!” she whispered.
    There was. I could hear the sounds of muffled footsteps on the bare floor, followed by a rasp of metal. At that instant however Tish asked for a light, and Aggie flashed it on the hole.
    There was a rat there as big as a cat, and with an awful shriek Aggie made for the stairs. I can still hear her voice as she hammered on the door.
    “It’s locked, Tish!” she shouted frantically.
    “Nonsense,” said Tish sternly.
    “It is locked.”
    Well, Tish