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<title>Missing at Marshlands, by Cleo F. Garis</title>
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40666 ***</div>
<div id="cover" class="img">
<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Missing at Marshlands" width="500" height="726" />
</div>
<div class="img" id="front"><img src="images/front.jpg" alt="They were afraid, yet they knew they must go in." width="500" height="713" /></div>
<p class="center">They were afraid, yet they knew they must go in.
<br />(<i>Frontispiece</i>) <span class="hst">(<span class="small">MISSING AT THE MARSHLANDS</span>)</span></p>
<div class="box"><div class="subbox">
<p class="tbcenter"><i>The Arden Blake Mystery Series</i></p>
<h1>MISSING AT
<br />MARSHLANDS</h1>
<p class="center"><i>By</i>
<br />CLEO F. GARIS</p>
<div class="img" id="boat"><img src="images/boat.jpg" alt="(Houseboat image)" width="250" height="251" /></div>
<p class="center">A. L. BURT COMPANY
<br /><i>Publishers</i>
<br /><span class="sc">New York <span class="hst">Chicago</span></span></p>
</div></div>
<p class="tbcenter"><i>The Arden Blake Mystery Series</i></p>
<p class="center">BY CLEO F. GARIS</p>
<p class="center"><span class="sc">The Orchard Secret</span>
<br /><span class="sc">Mystery of Jockey Hollow</span>
<br /><span class="sc">Missing at Marshlands</span></p>
<p class="tbcenter"><span class="small">COPYRIGHT, 1934, BY</span>
<br /><span class="sc">A. L. Burt Company</span></p>
<p class="tbcenter"><span class="small">Missing At Marshlands</span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="small">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</span></p>
<p class="tbcenter"><span class="small">TO MY FRIEND</span>
<br />DOROTHY O’CONNOR</p>
<p class="center"><i>Who saw the Czar’s snuffbox
<br />and told me its tragic story.</i></p>
<h2>Contents</h2>
<dl class="toc">
<dt class="jr"><span class="jl"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></span> <span class="small">PAGE</span></dt>
<dt><a href="#c1">I A Stalled Car</a> 9</dt>
<dt><a href="#c2">II A Man, a Dog, and a Girl</a> 19</dt>
<dt><a href="#c3">III The Russian</a> 29</dt>
<dt><a href="#c4">IV A Girl and a Bracelet</a> 42</dt>
<dt><a href="#c5">V The Stranger</a> 50</dt>
<dt><a href="#c6">VI The Unwelcome Guest</a> 56</dt>
<dt><a href="#c7">VII A Noise in the Night</a> 65</dt>
<dt><a href="#c8">VIII Hard to Believe</a> 72</dt>
<dt><a href="#c9">IX The Snuffbox</a> 78</dt>
<dt><a href="#c10">X Beauty That Dazzled</a> 85</dt>
<dt><a href="#c11">XI Still They Come</a> 92</dt>
<dt><a href="#c12">XII A Friend in the Deep</a> 98</dt>
<dt><a href="#c13">XIII The Tragic Messenger</a> 105</dt>
<dt><a href="#c14">XIV Missing at Marshlands</a> 110</dt>
<dt><a href="#c15">XV Downhearted; Not Discouraged</a> 115</dt>
<dt><a href="#c16">XVI That Dark Woman</a> 123</dt>
<dt><a href="#c17">XVII Olga Makes Light of It</a> 130</dt>
<dt><a href="#c18">XVIII Reilly on the Case</a> 136</dt>
<dt><a href="#c19">XIX Tania Howls</a> 142</dt>
<dt><a href="#c20">XX Mrs. Landry Helps</a> 147</dt>
<dt><a href="#c21">XXI Melissa Has a Pin</a> 157</dt>
<dt><a href="#c22">XXII The Policewoman</a> 164</dt>
<dt><a href="#c23">XXIII On the Water Trail</a> 170</dt>
<dt><a href="#c24">XXIV The Man Arrives</a> 178</dt>
<dt><a href="#c25">XXV The Man in the Marsh</a> 187</dt>
<dt><a href="#c26">XXVI Melissa Again</a> 192</dt>
<dt><a href="#c27">XXVII Terry’s Tactics</a> 199</dt>
<dt><a href="#c28">XXVIII Driven Away</a> 205</dt>
<dt><a href="#c29">XXIX The Barking of Tania</a> 219</dt>
<dt><a href="#c30">XXX All Is Well</a> 227</dt>
</dl>
<div class="pb" id="Page_9">[9]</div>
<h2 id="c1"><br />CHAPTER I
<br />A Stalled Car</h2>
<p>A bold morning sun thrust its warm glow into
the crowded, cheerful room at Cedar Ridge, glinting
on half-filled suitcases and revealing with a cruel
indifference the dust gathered on the abandoned
textbooks flung in a pile on the window seat. It was
a hot sun, for summer was upon the land, and the
school term was at an end. Arden, Terry, and Sim
were packing to go home.</p>
<p>It had been a year full of interesting activity and
some genuine fun, but it had not been without hard
work in the scholastic field. So, happy that examinations
were over at last, and overjoyed that they had
passed all subjects, except for a condition in mathematics
for Sim, the three girls were losing no time
in leaving their beloved college behind them and
heading for a summer of rest and hoped-for adventure.</p>
<p>Sim Westover was sitting on a suitcase that refused
to close and bouncing up and down in an effort
to bring the yawning leather jaws together.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_10">[10]</div>
<p>“Oh—Terry—help! I’ll never get this old suitcase
fastened, and we won’t get down till after dark,
and your mother will be worried and——” Sim’s
list of worries and trials was ended by Terry, a
smiling, sandy-haired creature, thrusting Sim aside
and putting a silk-covered knee on the offending
luggage, which closed obediently under such superior
pressure.</p>
<p>“There, little one, it’s shut. Are you all packed
now?” Terry Landry asked, patting Sim maternally
on her fair head.</p>
<p>Sim ducked. “Don’t <i>do</i> that!” she wailed. “You
act like a maiden aunt.”</p>
<p>“Phew!” A black-haired, blue-eyed girl crawled
out from under a bed. “How did that shoe ever get
under there in the first place? I suppose you threw
it at a mouse, Sim. I should have made <i>you</i> crawl
after it.” Arden Blake straightened her smart tan-wool
dress as she rose from the floor.</p>
<p>“No,” answered Terry before Sim could reply,
“you did it yourself three nights ago, I remember.
And, incidentally, I seem to be the only one ready,
even though you two say I’m always late.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_11">[11]</div>
<p>Terry stood surveying the jumbled scene with
amused eyes. Her two roommates at once renewed
their activity. Arden thrust the recovered shoe into
a bag with its fellow and announced that she too
was finished. Sim, powdering an uptilted nose, declared
that if Arden was ready there was nothing
to wait for, so, opening the door of their room,
called the porter to take their bags.</p>
<p>Down the long corridor they went, calling “goodbyes”
at each open door and gayly knocking at those
closed, as they marched down the hall.</p>
<p>For the last time that year they descended the
five flights of stairs up which they had so often
raced. At the outer door of the building they cast a
quick look behind them, then piled into the waiting
car. A five-passenger touring car, it was, belonging
to Arden’s father. In it the three girls were to drive
down to Oceanedge, on the coast, where they would
spend a month or two visiting Terry and her mother
in a seaside cottage. Oceanedge was the development
name of the resort. Natives called it Marshlands.</p>
<p>It was the first time the three girls had been permitted
to take such a long drive alone, and they were
anxious to conduct themselves creditably. Early as
the start was, and it was not yet nine o’clock, the
girls would not reach the shore until nearly evening,
so they were anxious to get going.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_12">[12]</div>
<p>Relaxing comfortably against the cool leather
upholstery, they soon left Cedar Ridge behind them.
Mile on mile piled up as they drove along the uncrowded
roads leading out of Morrisville. They
talked little; thoughts were too insistent, for leaving
school was indeed a big event, and all seemed
completely to realize its importance.</p>
<p>At noon they stopped at a wayside Tea Shoppe
for lunch, and when fortified by sandwiches and tea
and a generous helping of chocolate cake they continued
on their journey, becoming less like students
and more like ordinary girls as they left college
farther in the distance.</p>
<p>The country was now taking on a seashore look,
maple trees giving place to patchy-barked sycamores
and stunted, conventional pines, and grassy meadows
fading into sandy wastes and dunes; the road stretching
always before them, a dark ribbon between the
yellow hills of sand, pebbles, and broken shells.</p>
<p>It was at just such a portion of country that they
came upon the stalled car.</p>
<p>“Wait, Arden,” Sim begged as they approached
it, “let’s see what the trouble is. There hasn’t been
a garage for miles.”</p>
<p>“No, and there won’t be another one for miles,
either, not until we get to Oceanedge,” Terry announced.
“Perhaps we should see if we could help.”</p>
<p>Arden promptly turned in to the side of the road,
where they inspected a rather ancient car, sagging
over a flattened tire and looking like anything but
the power to move along.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_13">[13]</div>
<p>“A blowout,” Terry remarked laconically. “The
owner is probably walking into town.”</p>
<p>Curiously they looked into the abandoned vehicle
when, suddenly, a huge white and tan dog, apparently
aroused from a pleasant sleep, began to bark
ferociously.</p>
<p>“No one could go near that car with that—that—what
is it, Arden?” Sim questioned.</p>
<p>“A Russian wolfhound, and a beauty too,” Arden
replied, pursing her lips into a crooning little whistle
and trying to soothe the animal with friendly assurance.</p>
<p>“Look at all the stuff in the back there,” Terry
called, where, from a safe distance, she was gazing
in at the rear window. “Looks like a lot of pictures.”</p>
<p>“I guess that’s what they are. Well,” Arden suggested,
“shall we go on? We’ll probably overtake
the owner.”</p>
<p>“Might as well,” agreed Sim, and Terry nodded
as she got back into Arden’s car.</p>
<p>The dog stopped its barking, and as they drove
off they could see it curled up again on the front
seat to finish its interrupted nap; a nose of silky
white and taffy-colored tan. It certainly was a beauty.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_14">[14]</div>
<p>Again the road lay straight before them, without
even a tree on either side to break the monotony.
On the right, some distance away, they knew, the
blue inviting ocean lay shining in the sunlight, and
on the left miles of pine woods with a carpet of
brown needles.</p>
<p>They had not much farther to go, Terry told
them, pointing out a wary-looking wooden hand
which indicated “Oceanedge, 5 mi.”</p>
<p>“Whoever do you suppose might own the old
car?” Arden asked curiously as they sped along.</p>
<p>“I don’t care whose dog it is, or car, or what’s in
the back or anything about it,” Sim said firmly. “I’m
going to enjoy this summer, and I refuse to become
interested in another mystery. That car looked to
me just like one all ready to sprout.”</p>
<p>“That’s just talk, Sim,” Terry remarked. “If we
meet a handsome stranger, trudging slowly toward
the village, would you say—pass him by?” challenged
Terry.</p>
<p>“No, of course not,” Sim amended. “We could
give him a lift, and unless my eyes deceive me, we
are even now approaching the person in question.”</p>
<p>“You’re right, little one,” Arden announced, “it
could be no other. Shall I pull over?” She had taken
her foot off the accelerator, and the car slowed
down.</p>
<p>Sim and Terry nodded “Yes,” vigorously, and
Arden drove over to the side of the road, stopping
by the stranger.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_15">[15]</div>
<p>“May we give you a lift?” she asked pleasantly.</p>
<p>The man looked at her sharply and seemed
startled. He took a soft gray hat from his head
politely but still hesitated in answering.</p>
<p>“Why, I—er—thank you very much,” he faltered
finally. “My car is back there. I was unable to get
the tool chest open, and, really,” he smiled ruefully,
“I have no spare.”</p>
<p>The girls thrilled inwardly. He was so good-looking!
A “handsome stranger” in every respect, with
just a suggestion of a foreign accent.</p>
<p>“We are going to Oceanedge,” Arden continued,
“but we could drop you at a garage on our way.”</p>
<p>“Oh, now,” protested the man, “that would be
too much. I am used to walking. Besides,” he said
disarmingly, “your parents would perhaps not approve.”</p>
<p>“Our parents,” Sim flung in, “have faith in us—in
our judgment. You simply must let us take you.
It is absurd to walk in this hot sun when we are going
that way.”</p>
<p>He shrugged in complaisance and, dusting off
his clothes a bit, climbed in the back seat, murmuring
his thanks.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_16">[16]</div>
<p>“I, too, will be at Oceanedge for the summer,”
he said as if to break the embarrassing pause. “I
paint. I have rented a houseboat out where I can be
alone and have quiet. I do not need people around
me. I have Tania, my dog, and my paints, and so I
am happy.” He talked in a jerky fashion, as though
translating from a foreign tongue, as he went on.</p>
<p>Sim, always the most loquacious of the three,
volunteered the information that they were visiting
Terry and her mother, that they were fast friends,
and added, in a little burst of indignation, that of
course they would not bother him or attempt to
break up his “quiet.” The girls frowned at her, but
Sim was ever high-spirited.</p>
<p>At Reilly’s garage, the only one in the sleepy
village, they set him down after he had thanked
them charmingly, and they continued on their way.
They had to go back again to the main road a short
distance, for the house, gayly called “Buckingham
Palace” because it was so unlike the great palace,
was on a neck of land reaching out between ocean
and bay and south of the town.</p>
<p>“Queer fellow, didn’t you think, Arden?” Sim
questioned, still wondering about their reluctant
passenger.</p>
<p>“Mysterious would be a better word, I think.
Really, I got that impression of him. Very mysterious,
as if he had something to hide.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_17">[17]</div>
<p>“Rather fond of himself, I’d say,” Terry flung
in. “We won’t bother him. He’ll be quite alone on
that old houseboat, and I hope the water rats find
his best cheese.”</p>
<p>“He was a little strange,” Arden reasoned, ignoring
Terry’s joke. “Quite different, I expect, from
the usual village Romeo, eh, Terry?”</p>
<p>“That dog, too, I’d hate to have that animal mad
at me,” Sim remarked, pulling a blonde curl into
further prominence from under her beret.</p>
<p>“I can’t imagine what a man like that would come
to this forsaken place for,” Terry mused. “Heaven
knows it’s quiet enough, if that’s what he wants, but
no scenery for painting. And wait until he sees that
houseboat! It’s been tied up in the bay for years,”
and she sighed comfortably. “Oh, well, as Sim says,
let’s not worry about <i>him</i>. We’ll probably never see
him again.”</p>
<p>“He said he was happy, but he didn’t look that
way to me,” Arden went on. “I thought he looked
rather sad, and we don’t even know his name. If
that should ever matter.”</p>
<p>“Arden Blake!” Sim exclaimed, “if you make another
mystery out of this simple incident, after all
we’ve just gone through, I’ll never forgive you! I’m
pos-i-tive-ly off mysteries for life.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_18">[18]</div>
<p>“Terry’s right. We’ll probably never see him
again. He would certainly know how to hide himself
and his dog,” Arden said slowly, and then, stepping
on the gas, she drove as fast as she dared in the
direction of “Buckingham Palace.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_19">[19]</div>
<h2 id="c2"><br />CHAPTER II
<br />A Man, a Dog, and a Girl</h2>
<p>With almost startling suddenness, the little
house affectionately known as “Buckingham Palace”
popped into view as the car swung round a turn in
the road.</p>
<p>A white, two-story house, with brilliant orange
awnings, that Terry’s father had bought when
Oceanedge had promised to become a thriving seashore
resort. But the “plans of men” had gone
“agley,” and Oceanedge had never developed beyond
Terry’s house, the beginnings of a boardwalk,
and a bridge over the small inlet of Bottle Bay.</p>
<p>Arden kept her hand pressed down on the horn,
and amid the noise of the horn and Terry’s shrill
whistle with forefingers between her lips, announced
their arrival.</p>
<p>“Yoo-hoo!” Terry called and once more gave her
famous loud whistle.</p>
<p>It was a feat much admired by the other two,
who, although they had practised faithfully under
Terry’s instruction, were never able to produce as
much as a single “toot” from carefully pursed lips.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_20">[20]</div>
<p>Terry’s mother, a woman still young and pleasant
enough to be Terry’s sister, appeared in the doorway
and waved a hand. The girls jumped out and
hurried toward her.</p>
<p>“Oh, Mother!” Terry exclaimed, throwing her
arms affectionately around her proud parent, “it’s
so good to be here. We made wonderful time and
never a puncture, even.”</p>
<p>“It’s good to have you here, too,” Terry’s mother
replied and with a welcoming smile kissed Arden
and Sim.</p>
<p>“I’m glad you arrived safely, for I think we will
get a storm before night, it has been so sultry today,”
she went on, and as though to give credence
to her words a low, angry rumbling was heard in
the west.</p>
<p>“But come in and get comfortable. You must be
starved. We have only a cold supper, for we were
not sure just when you’d get here. Ida,” she called,
“the girls are here, we can begin whenever you’re
ready.”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’m, Miz Landry, right away,” came
from the kitchen while the girls were on their way
upstairs.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_21">[21]</div>
<p>The house was not elaborate. One of those many
rubber-stamp houses, four bedrooms upstairs, maid’s
room downstairs type, but it was bright and airy,
and to the somewhat weary travelers it represented
all that could be desired.</p>
<p>They quickly changed from “city clothes” into
cooler cotton dresses and slipped fresh shoes on
stockingless feet. They hoped before their visit was
over to have acquired a tan that would defy detection
of bare legs and make true skin stockings look
smarter still.</p>
<p>Downstairs in the dining room Ida had made a
noble attempt at a cold supper. Potato salad, lettuce
and sliced tomatoes, cold meat, and lemonade that
made a great hit. They ate hungrily and drank glass
after glass of the cool drink as the air became more
dense and the storm more imminent.</p>
<p>Rolls of thunder growled nearer now, and the sky
was dark and threatening. Mrs. Landry lit the low-hung
chandelier over the table; and then, all at once,
with a deafening clap of thunder, the storm was
upon them.</p>
<p>“Terry, the windows upstairs!” Mrs. Landry
called. “And, Sim and Arden, see if you can pull up
the porch awnings. Ida and I will take care of the
windows here.”</p>
<p>Terry dashed upstairs, and Sim and Arden made
for the screen-enclosed porch.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_22">[22]</div>
<p>A cool, almost cold, wind whipped their hair in
their eyes and snapped the awnings viciously as they
hurriedly worked.</p>
<p>“Isn’t it glorious, Sim?” Arden asked, pulling
with all her might at an awning rope.</p>
<p>“I don’t like it,” Sim answered and gave a little
squeal at a flash of lightning.</p>
<p>“Look at the ocean—it’s all gray, and just a little
while ago it was so blue. Oh, dear, Sim, let’s pull
together!” Arden wrapped the rope around her
hand, and they both tugged vigorously.</p>
<p>The awning went up with a rush, and the girls
hurried to the next one. Upstairs a window slammed
as Terry went on with her job. The sky was as dark
as night now, and the lightning flashed with increased
brilliance; sometimes in flaming vastness,
then again in piercing arrows.</p>
<p>Suddenly the rain came. Dashing down in silver
sheets, it quickly drove Arden and Sim inside. Terry
came running downstairs, and they all gathered in
the living room, where they could watch the fury
of the storm over the ocean.</p>
<p>“Are you frightened, girls?” Terry’s mother
asked, as she saw Sim wince at a thunderclap. “You
mustn’t be. The storm will follow the bay right out
to sea. They never last long when it gets as black
as this. It’s mostly wind, and it blows out quickly.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_23">[23]</div>
<p>“I love it,” Arden replied. “I think it’s beautiful.
But it makes us seem so small and....” She hesitated.
A new noise could be distinguished above the
roar of the storm. The little group, with one accord,
turned to a side window from whence the sound
seemed to come. What they saw made poor frightened
Sim gasp. It was a white peering face, with
hair plastered down by the rain, and a questioning
look in the eyes.</p>
<p>“Terry! Go to the door! Let her in!” Mrs.
Landry called, quickly realizing this was a girl’s
face.</p>
<p>Terry sprang to obey. The front door opened;
the screen door beyond it was blown back and
slammed against the side of the house.</p>
<p>“Come in, come in,” Terry shouted against the
screaming wind. “You’ll be blown away!”</p>
<p>But the storm-born creature, holding a torn
sweater closer around her, looked sharply at Terry,
then turned and dashed away in the dim light and
was almost instantly lost to sight on the winding
pathway.</p>
<p>Terry, drying her face and smoothing her hair,
came back to the harbor of the lighted room.</p>
<p>“She ran when I called her,” she stated simply.
“What do you suppose she wanted, if she didn’t
want to come in?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_24">[24]</div>
<p>“It’s a queer time just to come for a look around,”
Sim agreed. “You must have scared her away,
Terry.”</p>
<p>“She’s probably a water pixie,” Arden remarked,
still under the spell of the majestic storm. “She was
most likely never there at all; we just imagined it.”</p>
<p>“What’s that?” Sim asked. “Do I imagine I hear
a knock at the door? I’m sure I heard something.”</p>
<p>They all listened. There was certainly a sound
like knocking.</p>
<p>“She’s come back!” Terry declared and once
more opened the door. The storm by this time had
abated a bit, although the rain still lashed down in
lordly fury.</p>
<p>As Terry flung back the door, the girls gasped,
for there stood their “handsome stranger” of the
lift-ride, soaked thoroughly, with a shivering, bedraggled
dog huddling close to him.</p>
<p>“Oh-h-h-h!” faltered Terry in her surprise.
“Won’t you come in?” she continued, recovering
her composure.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I am too wet,” answered their strange
caller, pushing a damp strand of hair back from his
face. “I am sorry to trouble you——” A sudden
gust of wind fury almost pulled the door from
Terry’s grasp.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_25">[25]</div>
<p>“Come in, come in,” interrupted Terry’s mother
coming forward. “We don’t mind a little water;
and the poor dog!”</p>
<p>She stooped to pet the cringing animal and then
drew back in alarm as a snarl greeted her.</p>
<p>“Tania!” called the man in rebuke, and then to
Terry’s mother he said: “You must forgive her, she
is not used to strangers, but she will not harm you.
Tania,” he said again, “these people are friends.”
It was his voice, apparently, not his words, the dog
understood.</p>
<p>Arden and Sim had pressed nearer to witness the
little drama of the storm. The man and his white
wraith of a dog now stood dripping puddles of rain
water on Mrs. Landry’s spotless floor. He looked
shyly down at the widening pools at his feet, smiled,
and said:</p>
<p>“I wonder if you could give me a few matches?
I have not been very practical, for I neglected to
buy some. And the old ones I have are all like this.”
He held up a soaked cardboard clip-container, soft
from the rain. There was just a hint of a foreign
accent as he continued: “I am, in a way, a neighbor,
and, though I fear I am making a great deal of
trouble for you, I cannot light my lamp without
matches.” He made a helpless gesture.</p>
<p>“Neighbor?” questioned Mrs. Landry. “I don’t
understand.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_26">[26]</div>
<p>“Oh, yes!” Arden exclaimed, recognizing the
visitor. “You are the gentleman we drove into town
this afternoon. He lives on the houseboat down the
bay,” she quickly whispered to Terry’s mother. Then
to the caller: “Will matches be all that you need?”</p>
<p>“I think so, yes; thank you. But please allow me
to introduce myself and beg pardon for intruding
like this. I am Dimitri Uzlov. I have rented the
houseboat for the summer while I do a little painting
and sketching. This is Tania, my faithful dog.
She is not as savage as she appears. This afternoon
your daughters were kind enough to——” He
looked at Mrs. Landry and bowed formally. But
she interrupted:</p>
<p>“Only one daughter, Mr. Uzlov,” and she indicated
Terry by putting a hand on her shoulder.
“My other daughters are not here now. These
young ladies are Terry’s guests—her college chums.”</p>
<p>Dimitri Uzlov bowed in acknowledgment. In so
doing he turned the hat he was holding upside down,
and water began dripping and splashing from the
curved brim.</p>
<p>“Oh!” he exclaimed in some confusion.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter,” said Terry.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_27">[27]</div>
<p>“Thank you. But the young ladies were very kind
to me this afternoon. No doubt they have told you.”
Another bow to Mrs. Landry. “But I must not stand
here dripping like this. If I could have a few matches
for my lamps——” His slow, ingratiating smile
came out again.</p>
<p>Terry hurried to the kitchen and returned with
matches and candles as well. Mrs. Landry always
kept a supply of both in stock, knowing, from past
sad experiences, that the electric current at Marshlands
was not always entirely dependable during
severe storms.</p>
<p>Terry held out the matches, long wooden ones
with blue heads, and several candles.</p>
<p>“You are very provident,” said Mr. Uzlov, smiling
once more as he took them, again bowing and
splashing more water from his hat to the floor. “I
must be wise in this same way. I thank you a thousand
times! You are so kind!”</p>
<p>The rain-soaked visitor turned to go.</p>
<p>“Won’t you wait a little longer,” Mrs. Landry
asked, “until the storm lets up a bit?”</p>
<p>“Thank you, but I must get back. I have stayed
away too long already. My humble houseboat is
alone. Come, Tania,” he replied and, giving them
all a shy smile, he stepped out on the porch.</p>
<p>“But you’ll catch cold—the rain——” Arden began.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_28">[28]</div>
<p>“It has almost stopped,” Dimitri Uzlov smiled.
“We must not stay any longer. I am a solitary person.
But thank you.” And he was gone, leaving only
the telltale puddles behind him.</p>
<p>As they watched from the window they could see
him walking down the damp sand in the direction
of the houseboat with Tania, the Russian wolfhound,
at his heels, looking thinner than ever because
of the way her silk hair lay matted with the rain.</p>
<p>Like a character from the “King of the Golden
River” he looked, getting farther and farther away
until a sand-dune suddenly cut off their sight of him.</p>
<p>Only the footsteps were left, big ones for Dimitri
and a series of small holes where the dainty Tania
had followed him.</p>
<p>“What a strange man!” Mrs. Landry exclaimed.</p>
<p>“I think he’s just awfully shy,” Arden said. “I
suppose he couldn’t bear to come in with all us
women staring at him.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps you’re right, my dear,” Terry’s mother
answered and once more turned to the window.</p>
<p>A big storm, a wild wraith of a girl, a real hermit,
and a majestic wolfhound! What more could the
girls have expected?</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_29">[29]</div>
<h2 id="c3"><br />CHAPTER III
<br />The Russian</h2>
<p>When the storm was over and the late summer
sun came out for a brief half hour before settling
down for the night, there was hardly a hint of rain
left. The sandy ground absorbed the water almost
as quickly as it fell, leaving only tiny pock-marks
behind.</p>
<p>The girls opened doors and windows to capture
the cool air, and Arden let the porch awnings down
and jumped back just in time to escape a small cascade
as the rain water tumbled free of the canvas
pocket.</p>
<p>Then Arden and Sim, Terry and her mother sat
on the comfortably screened porch and watched
night fold her dark-blue wings over everything.</p>
<p>“Funniest thing the way that ‘Tess-of-the-Storm-Country’
creature peeked in at the window and then
ran away,” Terry observed dreamily. “Who could
she have been?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_30">[30]</div>
<p>“I suppose she saw Dimitri Uzlov coming up the
path and was frightened. That dog of his certainly
looked like nothing human,” Sim replied.</p>
<p>“A case of ‘see what the storm blew in,’” Arden
chuckled. “But don’t you think he’s fascinating? I
love his accent.”</p>
<p>Terry’s mother gave a little laugh.</p>
<p>“You youngsters always find something romantic
in the most everyday occurrences, don’t you? But
you mustn’t bother Mr. Uzlov. He seems a serious
young man, and he hinted, quite charmingly, that
he would rather be alone. Well—” she smothered a
little yawn—“I’m going to bed. It must be half-past
ten. Good-night, girls.”</p>
<p>“Oh—Mother—” Terry drawled—“as if we’d
bother him.”</p>
<p>That was one of the nicest things about Terry’s
mother. She never intruded, and any advice she gave
was always offered in a way that they could not
possibly object to. But this evening her well-meant
plan of leaving them alone to talk was not needed,
for they soon followed her into the house, and after
talking a while in sleepy monosyllables, without
much ceremony fell asleep in comfortable beds.</p>
<p>The next morning brought a blue-and-gold day
with a stiff northwest wind kicking up whitecaps on
Bottle Bay. “Buckingham Palace” stood on a little
neck of land, with the ocean on one side and the
bay on the other.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_31">[31]</div>
<p>“Let’s take the rowboat and go down the bay a
bit,” Terry suggested. “It’s too cold for bathing.”</p>
<p>“We could take a look at the houseboat without
disturbing the hermit,” Arden remarked.
“Maybe——”</p>
<p>“Exactly what I had in mind,” Terry said.
“You’re positively uncanny, Arden, the way you read
people’s minds. We don’t need to mention it to
Mother, though.”</p>
<p>It was after breakfast, and the girls were sitting
on the bottom step of the porch, idly watching tiny
ants rebuild their houses that had been washed away
in the storm.</p>
<p>“Let me row, Terry, will you?” Sim asked. “I’m
going to start in training this very day, and when
we go back to Cedar Ridge in the fall I’ll be the
champion swimmer of the college,” she bragged.</p>
<p>“You can row, all right, I’ve no desire to raise
blisters on my lily-white palms,” Terry answered
her, and going to the door of the house she called:
“Mother, we’re going for a little row in the bay.
The girls want to take a look around. Yes, we’ll be
careful. ’Bye!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_32">[32]</div>
<p>On the bay side an old though seaworthy rowboat
was moored, covered with a canvas which had
kept out the rain. They quickly pulled off the cover,
and Terry took the oars from their place. With a
few uncertain pushes, they finally made one strong
enough to get started.</p>
<p>They were wearing shorts with sneakers, and
bright handkerchiefs knotted at their throats; no
hats, but Sim had tied a ribbon like Alice in Wonderland
around her head to keep her short curls in
place. It was becoming, too, and perhaps Sim knew
that.</p>
<p>“Now let’s see how good you are, Sim,” Terry
suggested. “Hail the champion——”</p>
<p>“I’m not good at all, but I will be. Arden, you
get in the what-do-you-call it—stern—the back, and,
Terry, you sit there, too, then you can watch me
and tell where we’re going.” Sim found a place to
brace her heels and grasping the oars began to back
water until they could turn.</p>
<p>“Don’t just row down there and bump into the
houseboat. Pretend we’re going some place else,”
Arden suggested. “We don’t want to appear so
curious.”</p>
<p>“It won’t make much difference; the wind is taking
us there, anyway. Oh—ouch!” Sim exclaimed.
“I caught my fingers between the oars.” She shook
her hands quickly to “throw off” the pain.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_33">[33]</div>
<p>“Well, don’t let the oar go, silly!” Terry cautioned
quickly. “Oh, Sim, you lovely chump, there it
goes!”</p>
<p>The oar, as though pulled by the water, slipped
out of the oarlock and floated away entirely unconcerned.</p>
<p>“Here, give me the other one, I’ll paddle,” Terry
cried, reaching for the one faithful remaining oar.</p>
<p>Sim tried to hand it to her and in so doing gave
Arden a little bump on the head.</p>
<p>“Oh, Sim, you’re hitting me,” Arden squealed.</p>
<p>“Sorry!” grunted Sim.</p>
<p>“Fine bunch of sailors you are. You can’t paddle
against this wind. Look where we’re going!” Arden
was indicating the shore line. The houseboat was
only a few hundred feet away now, in a little cove,
down the bay from Terry’s house, the distance being
about a half mile.</p>
<p>“We’re going right toward it. What’ll we do?”
Sim wailed. “We’ll hit it in a minute!”</p>
<p>“Oh, hush, Sim! We can’t help it. Stick out the
oar, Terry, so we don’t bump too hard,” Arden
ordered.</p>
<p>Terry tried her best, but the oar slipped to one
side, and the boat rammed the houseboat with a
little bump that, to the girls, sounded like a crash.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_34">[34]</div>
<p>Instantly there was a ferocious barking, and the
girls could hear a call: “Tania! Tania!” and then
a rush of words uttered in a soothing tone.</p>
<p>They sat quite still, an embarrassed little group,
while their lazy old craft hugged the side of the
houseboat.</p>
<p>“Sim Westover,” Arden hissed, “I could cheerfully
duck you, clothes and all. What will the man
think?”</p>
<p>“But, Arden——” began Sim, and then stopped
as she heard footsteps on the upper deck of the
boat near them.</p>
<p>Dimitri Uzlov had come on deck and was gazing
down at them silently. They looked back, uncertain
how to explain their presence. Arden spoke:</p>
<p>“We’re sorry to have disturbed you, but we lost
an oar and the boat drifted over here.”</p>
<p>“I let it slip,” Sim added a little nervously. “I’m
not very good at rowing, I’m afraid.” She smiled
up at him apologetically.</p>
<p>He still looked down at them, saying nothing,
half amused and half angry, apparently.</p>
<p>“If you could lend us an oar we could row over
and get ours,” Terry suggested. “We’d bring yours
right back.”</p>
<p>Suddenly the young man burst out laughing, and
they all felt better, so much better that they joined
in the laugh themselves.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_35">[35]</div>
<p>“You are char-r-rming,” he chuckled. “Of course
you may take my oar; I will get it for you,” and
he disappeared from sight as if he had dropped
down a hatchway.</p>
<p>“See!” Arden whispered gleefully. “Isn’t he
nice?”</p>
<p>Then they heard him call: “Can you push down
to this end of my castle? My rowboat is moored
here.”</p>
<p>Terry poled the boat in the shallow water, for
the houseboat was tied up at the shore, to the place
Dimitri indicated.</p>
<p>There was a boat similar to theirs fast to the
larger craft. Dimitri handed Terry the oar, smiling.</p>
<p>“Do you think you can recover your own?” he
asked.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, easily,” replied Terry. “I’ll row this
time.”</p>
<p>Sim climbed to the stern a little humbly and sat
panting while Terry, with long strokes, pulled
toward the deeper water where their oar was bobbing
about in the sunlight.</p>
<p>“Grab it, Sim,” she called when they reached it,
“and don’t murder anyone with it!”</p>
<p>Sim grabbed and recovered the dripping wooden
shaft successfully and also gratefully.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_36">[36]</div>
<p>“Now we’ll take his back,” Terry went on, and
turned their craft toward the houseboat.</p>
<p>Tania once more barkingly announced their
arrival, and Dimitri appeared at the signal.</p>
<p>“Will you come on board and rest for a minute?”
he invited hospitably. “It was unfortunate that you
lost your oar.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know whether we ought——” began
Terry but Arden, seeing his smiling face take on an
embarrassed look, interrupted with:</p>
<p>“We’d love to, for just a second. I’ve never been
on a houseboat.”</p>
<p>Terry tied their boat up near his, and the three
girls went around to the stern of the houseboat
over a little boardwalk and up the rickety stairs to
the deck of the floating old craft.</p>
<p>There they hesitated. Tania was keeping up a
barrage of barking, showing her fangs and growling
at intervals.</p>
<p>“Please, if you will come with me,” Dimitri said.
“I will impress on her that you are my friends.”</p>
<p>They followed him guardedly. “Tania, come
here,” he ordered sternly. The big white-and-tan
dog stood like a statue. “Come here!” her master
repeated. Tania walked toward him with queenly
dignity.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_37">[37]</div>
<p>Dimitri then put his hand on Arden’s arm. “These
are my friends,” he said; and then to the girls: “I
will tell her that in Russian, and she will be sure to
understand. Then if you will each pat her head,
you will be fast friends.” He smiled enthusiastically.</p>
<p>The little ceremony of introduction was carried
out, and Tania ceased her worried barking. The dog
put a dainty paw on Arden’s white shorts as if to
reassure them all most completely.</p>
<p>“Such a lovely dog,” murmured Sim.</p>
<p>“And intelligent, too,” added Terry.</p>
<p>“I will have pleasure in showing you my little
floating home here, if you would like to see it,” said
Mr. Uzlov, smiling his invitation. “It is the first
time I have ever lived on a houseboat. They are
rather strange creatures, is it not so?” Again he
smiled.</p>
<p>“This one is very old,” Terry said. “I don’t know
how many years it has been here. It belongs to Mr.
Reilly, the town chief of police. This is the first
time it’s been rented in I don’t know how long. I
think you hadn’t better try to move it either by sail
or an outboard motor,” she warned with a laugh.
“I fancy it would leak like a sieve.”</p>
<p>“Doubtless,” he agreed, also laughing. “But I
shall be safe enough on my boat. I don’t intend to
move her, and probably she rests on the muddy
bottom of this bay and marshy land.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_38">[38]</div>
<p>The houseboat was not large. It consisted of a
sort of large shed, with windows, doors, and a flat
roof perched on what had once been a scow. There
was a narrow space running all around the house
part, between it and a low rail. There was a small
float at one end to which a rowboat was made fast.
From the float a cleated plank gave access to the
lower deck of the boat, if a deck it could be called.
There was also a short flight of rather rickety steps
at the stern by which the girls had come aboard.
The houseboat had once been painted green, but
little of the original color remained.</p>
<p>“Will you follow me?” Dimitri Uzlov requested,
opening a sagging door which led into the rear part
of the houseboat. “This is where I do my work.”</p>
<p>The girls saw that the interior of the craft consisted
of really but one large room, divided by heavy
hanging curtains into two apartments. The one they
had entered did the double duty of a sleeping and
working space, for there was a cot in one corner. On
a table gleamed a bright brass samovar with some
dishes about it. There was an easel and on a chair
near it brushes in pots, tubes of paint, and a much-smeared
palette. The curtained-off part was the
kitchen.</p>
<p>“I am finishing a marine for a client,” the artist
said, indicating the half-finished canvas on the easel.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_39">[39]</div>
<p>Arden and her chums noticed several canvases
stacked together near one wall, and standing beside
a window was another easel with a picture on it. But
what the subject of this picture was could not be
seen, for it was covered with a sheet.</p>
<p>“Oh, how lovely it is here!” Arden exclaimed.
“To have a place all your own to do just as you
please in and no need to worry about neighbors
looking in your windows!”</p>
<p>“At least I am sufficiently isolated here,” the Russian
agreed. “The houseboat is hard to come at. I
always loved marshlands. That is one reason I was
attracted to this boat, old and shabby as it is.”</p>
<p>“It’s wonderful, I think,” murmured Sim.</p>
<p>“But a little lonesome,” suggested Terry.</p>
<p>“I came here for lonesomeness—as one reason,”
Mr. Uzlov said.</p>
<p>Arden glanced at the exposed picture showing a
stormy ocean with sea gulls fighting the wind.
Dimitri smiled understanding as she said:</p>
<p>“It is lovely!”</p>
<p>The artist seemed to be losing some of his reluctance.</p>
<p>Arden walked over toward the other painting—the
one covered with a sheet. She wondered what it
could be.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_40">[40]</div>
<p>“What is this?” she asked, extending a hand as
though to lift the covering. “Is it your masterpiece?”</p>
<p>Instantly the young man’s face clouded.</p>
<p>“Please—that—do not touch it—please! It is—unfinished.
I cannot show it to you. I am sorry!”</p>
<p>His first words had been hurried—stiff—exclamatory.
The girls at once sensed a change in his
manner. But his last word had been almost pleading.
Even then it seemed as if his friendliness, which had
been so pronounced on the arrival of his visitors,
was now as covered as was the picture.</p>
<p>Arden drew back as if hurt.</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean to be curious,” she faltered. “I’m
sorry!” Even her words sounded empty of meaning.</p>
<p>Another change came over the face of Dimitri
Uzlov.</p>
<p>“You will be so good as to pardon me for my
seeming ill haste,” he murmured. “But that picture—no—it
must not be seen—yet.”</p>
<p>Matters were becoming a little strained and awkward,
but Terry went into the breach cleverly by
saying:</p>
<p>“We had better be going. It must be nearly lunch
time. Mother will be expecting us. Thank you for
your help, Mr. Uzlov, and for letting us see your
houseboat.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_41">[41]</div>
<p>He did not try to stop them, nor did he express
regret at their sudden departure, but simply said
good-bye and then watched them pull away in the
waiting rowboat.</p>
<p>“Queerest person I ever met,” Terry began. “One
minute all sunshine and gladness, and the next, all
worked up because Arden asked about his old picture.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t have touched it, anyway,” Arden replied.
“I was just trying to show a little interest.
My goodness! Who would want to live in such a
messy place? No one but the sort they call—artists!”</p>
<p>“I wonder what the hidden picture was?” Sim
asked curiously. “Perhaps he’s a spy, making maps
of the coast and inlet.”</p>
<p>“Now who said they refused to get mixed up in
another mystery?” Terry jeered. “Well, let’s go
home, I’m hungry.”</p>
<p>“So am I, but I would like to know what was on
that easel,” Sim remarked as Terry pulled with
strong strokes back to “Buckingham Palace.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_42">[42]</div>
<h2 id="c4"><br />CHAPTER IV
<br />A Girl and a Bracelet</h2>
<p>By afternoon the sun was warmer, and the girls,
dressed in bathing suits, were lying on the caressing
sand of the little beach not far from the house. They
had spread their beach coats out beneath them and
were sprawled in favorable attitudes to acquire the
all-important tan. At intervals one of the girls sat
up and coated herself liberally with cocoanut oil.
They did not seem to feel exactly like talking, as
the sun made them deliciously lazy. Perhaps they
were thinking of their adventure at school when, as
told in the first volume of this series, <i>The Orchard
Secret</i>, many surprising things happened. Or they
may have been letting their minds wander to more
surprising occurrences, as told in the <i>Mystery of
Jockey Hollow</i>.</p>
<p>Sim, Arden, and Terry had been chums and
schoolmates ever since they first began to acquire
knowledge in Vincent Prep, and their friendship and
loyalty continued until the present time, when they
were just finishing their freshman year at Cedar
Ridge, the well-known college for girls at Morrisville.
This small city was not very distant from
Pentville, where the three lived.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_43">[43]</div>
<p>As Sim sat up to apply the oil again, she saw a
dark object bobbing up and down far out on the
ocean.</p>
<p>“Look, girls,” she cried, “does that look like
someone to you, or is it just a log?”</p>
<p>“Where?” Arden asked, squinting at the bright
water toward which Sim pointed, and then they were
left in no doubt, for the bobbing dark spot began to
swim. With long, sure strokes it came nearer to
them, and they could see the white foam where the
thrashing feet churned it up in perfect timing.</p>
<p>“Some swimmer,” Sim said admiringly. “Wonderful
form. I wonder who it is?”</p>
<p>“We’ll soon see,” Arden replied, and Terry
nodded in agreement.</p>
<p>The figure was making rapid time, and as it
neared the beach, waited for just the right minute
and then coasted in on a blue-and-white breaker.</p>
<p>The girls watched while the swimmer crawled a
stroke then sprang upright and shook off water like
a happy young animal.</p>
<p>“Why, it’s the girl who looked in at the window
last night,” Terry exclaimed. “She can swim, can’t
she?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_44">[44]</div>
<p>The girl saw them suddenly and was about to
run up the beach and away when she hesitated. Sim
saw an old gray sweater on the sand near them. It
obviously belonged to the swimmer, and she would
have to come quite near them to get it.</p>
<p>Sim smiled at her as she looked at them in an
almost frightened way.</p>
<p>“You swim beautifully,” Sim remarked to relieve
the shy girl. “Did you learn in the ocean?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” she drawled, stooping for her sweater.
“I learned in the ocean.” That was all she said.</p>
<p>“Do you live here, at Oceanedge?” Arden asked
next.</p>
<p>“Not right here,” replied the swimmer. “I live on
the other side of the bay with my father, but I come
here to swim.” After such a long speech she again
seemed ready to run away.</p>
<p>“We live up there,” Terry volunteered, indicating
the house, the roof of which could be seen above low
pines. “We’re just here for the summer. Do you live
here all year?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m a native,” their new friend went on in
a rather bitter tone. “I live, if you can call it that,
with my father. He’s a crabber and a worn crab
himself. What’s that oil for?” Arden was dabbing
a bit on a rather red arm.</p>
<p>“To make us tan; want some?” asked Sim kindly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_45">[45]</div>
<p>The girl gave a little laugh. “My father would
tan me if he caught me using anything like that. He
says I’m so homely now, there’s no use making me
worse.”</p>
<p>“Oh, but you’re a marvelous swimmer. I wish
you’d swim with me some day,” said the sympathetic
Sim. “What’s your name? Mine is Bernice
Westover, but everyone calls me Sim,” she finished
affably.</p>
<p>“Melissa Clayton,” the girl answered. “That’s a
pretty thing.” She indicated a brilliantly painted
wooden bracelet on Sim’s arm, the kind sponsored
by the large department stores as being just the thing
for beach wear because, perhaps, you couldn’t forget
you had it on.</p>
<p>“Do you like it? You may have it,” Sim replied
and slipped it off her arm. “Here, I’ve got lots of
things like these, and you might like to have this.”</p>
<p>“Oh, can I really? I’d love it! I’ve never had a
pretty thing like this in my whole life. My father
thinks such things are no good and only give me
wrong ideas. But I’ll take care of it always.” Melissa
took the bracelet and slipped it on her tanned muscular
arm, looking at it pathetically.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_46">[46]</div>
<p>She wore an old, dark-blue jersey bathing suit, a
little too large for her, and a white canvas belt. She
had no bathing cap on, and her wet hair was beginning
to curl a little as it dried in the sun. She looked
at the wooden bracelet as though it were as precious
as a diamond circlet, turning it around and around
to admire it. A slow smile spread over her tanned
face.</p>
<p>“Do you go to school here in the winter, Melissa?”
Arden asked. This wild creature who swam
like a sea nymph and smiled at a cheap wooden
bracelet was something different and “terribly interesting,”
in Arden’s opinion.</p>
<p>“I did go to school, but my father took me out
last year when I turned fourteen; said I’d be getting
ideas. So I don’t go any more,” Melissa replied, her
white teeth gleaming and sparkling in her darkened
face.</p>
<p>“But what do you do all winter when it’s cold
and there’s no crabbing?” Sim inquired. “We’re
asking you an awful lot of questions; do you mind?”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t mind. I don’t very often get a chance
to talk to anybody. Pa never says a word, hardly,”
the girl went on.</p>
<p>Arden, Terry, and Sim watched her sympathetically
as she stood first on one foot then on the other
in a nervous way, smoothing out the sand beneath
her feet. They had never met a girl like her, and
pitied her at once when they learned of her lonely
life. But, sorry as they were, they realized that
there was something about her that was different, a
hint of a mind not as keenly alert as theirs. She was
so slow to respond to their advances.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_47">[47]</div>
<p>“Why did you run away the other night in the
storm?” Terry bravely asked. “We wanted you to
come in.”</p>
<p>“I was afraid. I just wanted to look at you all
in the nice bright room, but when you saw me——”</p>
<p>“Melissa!” thundered a voice behind them.</p>
<p>They all started and turned. A shabbily dressed
man was standing back of them on the sand. They
had not heard his footsteps. Had he purposely crept
up on Melissa?</p>
<p>“What are you doing there?” he asked roughly.</p>
<p>“Nothing, Pa—I was just swimmin’.” Melissa
seemed to swerve visibly, and she looked nervously
down at the bracelet Sim had given her.</p>
<p>“What’s that you got? Haven’t I told you not to
take things?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t take it, Pa. She gave it to me. I never
even asked.”</p>
<p>“Give it back, right away, and come along home!
You’ve been fooling around here long enough.
Quick, now!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_48">[48]</div>
<p>Melissa’s childish blue eyes pleaded to be allowed
to keep the bracelet, but her father, reading her
thought, stepped forward and pulled it from her
arm.</p>
<p>“Here, miss—I don’t allow Melissa to take
things,” the gruff man growled.</p>
<p>“Oh—but it’s nothing,” faltered Sim.
“Please——”</p>
<p>Clayton ignored her entirely, as he did Arden
and Terry. They might not have been there, for all
the attention they were given. Their attempt at
helping Melissa went for naught.</p>
<p>Melissa pulled the gray sweater on over her still
wet bathing suit and, smiling ruefully, followed her
father, who had begun plodding up the beach. She
did not look back but plodded along herself, trying
to keep up with his big steps but, apparently, not
intending to walk beside him.</p>
<p>The girls watched the retreating figures. Clayton
was talking earnestly, now and then flinging out a
hand in gesture and turning to shake his fist at his
daughter, watching her closely as he tramped on.</p>
<p>“What a mean man!” Sim exclaimed, fingering
the returned bracelet. “That poor child must have
a rotten time.”</p>
<p>“He certainly was a gruff old fellow,” Arden
agreed. “But did it strike you there was anything
strange about that girl?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_49">[49]</div>
<p>“Only that she seemed so awfully scared. Like a
kitten or stray dog. And I imagine she wanted to
make friends,” Terry replied.</p>
<p>“I hope that man is kind to her. I hate people to
be unhappy,” Sim remarked. “I’d better not begin
to pity her, or I won’t enjoy myself, and I so want
to do that.” She smiled appreciatingly at Terry, and
then, taking the cork from the bottle of cocoanut
oil, coated her pink skin again before starting for
another dip.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_50">[50]</div>
<h2 id="c5"><br />CHAPTER V
<br />The Stranger</h2>
<p>The water was too cold for a long swim, perhaps
because of the violent storm of the night before,
and the girls did not stay in long. Sim, who loved
swimming above all other sports, had to come out
reluctantly, as she, too, felt cold. They dried themselves
and raced back to the house to dress.</p>
<p>It was late afternoon when they were finally
dressed and sitting once more on the porch of
“Buckingham Palace.”</p>
<p>“It’s lovely here, Terry,” Arden remarked looking
dreamily at the ocean.</p>
<p>“I hope you won’t get tired of it. As you know
by now, there’s really nothing to do. Swimming,
rowing, walking, and fishing if you care for it. But
no country clubs. One movie that’s better left alone,
and a tiny village,” Terry explained at length.</p>
<p>“Oh, but you’re forgetting our Russian friend and
the wild girl of the swamps.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_51">[51]</div>
<p>Sim spoke up. “Not to mention the hard-hearted
father and the ferocious wolfhound <i>and</i> the swimming.
Don’t you worry, we won’t be bored. What
I like best is the complete absence of mystery.” This
was so pointed, the remark made a good joke.</p>
<p>“How about your theory that Dimitri is a spy
and that Melissa is a kidnaped heiress?” Arden
asked Sim, who was lazily swaying on the porch
swing.</p>
<p>“Well, I do think he’s queer, and I may be right
after all. It’s not natural for a man as young as he
is to want to be alone unless he’s hiding something
from somebody,” Sim insisted.</p>
<p>“Perhaps he is. But I find Melissa more interesting.
Seemed to me that man she called ‘Pa’ had
hypnotized her. And how mean of him not to let her
keep the bracelet,” Terry remarked. “Just plain
mean!”</p>
<p>As if that brought up different theories in each
mind, their conversation dragged. The swim and
the row in the morning left them feeling pleasantly
weary and completely satisfied. Healthy fatigue was
the real answer.</p>
<p>Sim moved back and forth in the rustic swing,
while Terry and Arden gazed dreamily out to sea,
where the dying sun turned white clouds to pink and
painted the water a deep blue in the miracle of sunset.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_52">[52]</div>
<p>They never even realized that a car was coming
rapidly down the road behind the house, raising
billows of sandy dust, until it stopped with screeching
brakes at the back gate of Terry’s house.</p>
<p>“Who’s that?” Sim asked, as Sim would.</p>
<p>“I haven’t the least idea, little one,” Terry answered.
“Unless it’s some more spies or kidnapers.”</p>
<p>“Let’s go see,” Arden suggested. “May we?”</p>
<p>But they were saved the trouble, for a woman
was striding up the sand-edged path to the porch.
She was dressed in black satin with a huge silver
fox scarf, and glittering earrings showed beneath a
small satin turban. She had dark eyes, and her lips
were a scarlet gash. The girls waited apprehensively.</p>
<p>“I beg your par-r-don,” the woman began. “Have
you a houseboat around here? He calls it—” she
fumbled in a handbag and taking out a paper looked
at it closely—“he calls it <i>Merry Jane</i>. Can you tell
me how to reach it?”</p>
<p>“There is a houseboat down the bay, if that’s the
one you mean,” Terry answered. “It is, I imagine,
the only one around here.”</p>
<p>“No other houseboats?” the caller asked, showing
white even teeth, pretty in spite of the carmined
lips.</p>
<p>“No, only this one,” Terry told her. “But I didn’t
know it had a name.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_53">[53]</div>
<p>“Then that must be it, my dear. Can you tell me
how to reach it?”</p>
<p>“You’ll have to go back through the village, then
along a swampy road to the edge of the bay. The
road is rather bad because of the rain last night.”</p>
<p>“Through the village? Is there no other way? I
did not understand one had to go through the village,”
the woman remarked vaguely.</p>
<p>“Unless you go by boat. I don’t know of any
other way of getting there,” Terry answered.</p>
<p>The woman seemed to be considering. She tapped
her hand impatiently on the letter she had taken
from her purse, and looked around her as though
trying to get her bearings and to make some decision.</p>
<p>“But how can I get a boat? It is very important
that I get over there. I don’t suppose—I would be
glad to pay you—if—— Could you take me over?
Have you a boat?” the dark woman asked abruptly.</p>
<p>“Yes,” answered Terry. “I could take you over,
and of course I’d be glad to do it.”</p>
<p>“Can we go at once?” the woman asked nervously.</p>
<p>“I guess so,” Terry replied. “Tell Mother I’ll be
right back, will you, Arden? I won’t be long.”</p>
<p>“Of course, Terry. But don’t you want——”
Arden asked in a meaning, unfinished way.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_54">[54]</div>
<p>For answer Terry turned aside from their strange
caller and winked understandingly at Arden and
Sim. Arden did not press her point further, but
nodded her head and said no more. Both were thinking:
“Now for another adventure!”</p>
<p>Terry quickly went for the oars and, with the
dark flashy woman following, made for the rowboat.
The passenger got in gracefully despite her
extremely high-heeled shoes and sat in the stern
while Terry pushed off.</p>
<p>“There it is, down there.” Terry pointed to the
moored boat where Dimitri lived.</p>
<p>“That?” her passenger asked incredulously.
“That—that <i>thing</i>? Dimitri is an odd one. Fancy
him living there!” she sneered openly.</p>
<p>Terry maintained an embarrassed silence and
rowed more vigorously. They soon reached the side
of the houseboat, and at the sound of the oars Tania
appeared on the narrow little deck, barking furiously.</p>
<p>“Dimitri! Dimitri!” the woman called. “Have
you still got that beast? Tie her up. I’m coming
aboard.”</p>
<p>Dimitri, in answer to the call, opened the door
and came outside. He looked almost shocked as he
saw Terry and her queer passenger, and for a minute
seemed awe-struck. Then he smiled at Terry, for it
was impossible to be heard above Tania’s wild
barking. He shrugged his shoulders and grasping
Tania by the collar had literally to pull the huge
dog away from the edge of the boat.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_55">[55]</div>
<p>Terry came closer and grasped the side of the
houseboat that the woman had spoken of as <i>Merry
Jane</i>. She waited until Dimitri returned without
Tania. He leaned down and, holding the woman by
the hand, assisted her to climb aboard. Then, turning
to Terry, smiling queerly, remarked:</p>
<p>“I don’t know whether to thank you, my friend,
or——”</p>
<p>Terry’s eyes opened wide in astonishment.</p>
<p>“Dimitri,” the woman said between shut teeth.
“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Nothing, nothing. Come inside, Olga,” he replied,
and nodded to Terry as he held open the door
for his apparently uninvited guest.</p>
<p>Terry knew at once she had no place in this
strange little drama and prepared to leave. From
the houseboat came the sound of a feminine voice
raised in anger. But Terry could not understand
the words beyond a pleading “Dimitri.”</p>
<p>She rowed quickly away, back to safer if not saner
surroundings.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_56">[56]</div>
<h2 id="c6"><br />CHAPTER VI
<br />The Unwelcome Guest</h2>
<p>Terry bent to the oars, pulling hard and taking
long strokes with the blades just missing the water.
She could row with quite some skill when she particularly
wanted to, and now she could scarcely wait
to get back to tell Sim and Arden what had happened.</p>
<p>As she reached the little dock where they tied up
their boat, she looked around and saw Arden and
Sim inspecting the flashy green roadster which the
woman “Olga” had left parked near their back
door. Terry put her finger to her lips and whistled
shrilly. Arden and Sim at once came running to meet
her.</p>
<p>“What happened, Terry?—surely something?”
Arden asked, climbing into the boat. Sim followed,
and all three settled down to talk on the quiet
water’s edge.</p>
<p>“Yes, lots!” Terry exclaimed. “He was furious
when he saw her, and Tania was wild.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_57">[57]</div>
<p>“Who was furious—what about?” Sim wanted to
know.</p>
<p>“Dimitri, stupid,” Terry went on. “When he saw
whom I had in the boat I never saw a man look so
mad.”</p>
<p>“What did he do?” Arden asked with great interest
and hopeful expectancy.</p>
<p>“Oh, he was polite enough in a cold way,” Terry
told them with a show of relish. “He tied up Tania
and said he didn’t know whether or not to thank me.
I heard him call her ‘Olga.’ When I left they were
jabbering away as though they were mad at each
other. Talking Russian, I guess,” Terry said rapidly.
The sudden appearance of the spectacular woman
had given them more excitement than mere words
might explain.</p>
<p>“Why do you suppose she didn’t want to go
through the village?” Sim inquired cannily.</p>
<p>“It looks to me as if she didn’t want to be seen,”
Arden ventured.</p>
<p>“She seemed to know the artist pretty well,”
Terry resumed. “She spoke as if it was queer that
he should live in the houseboat.”</p>
<p>“Let’s go back to the house, the mosquitoes are
beginning to bite,” Sim said, slapping her stockingless
leg. “We can talk better there, anyway. Our
voices might carry over the water.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_58">[58]</div>
<p>They all agreed this was a good plan and
scrambled out of the boat. Terry tied it up and
took the oars, and they went back to the porch.</p>
<p>It was almost dusk now, and the bay was hardly
rippled by a land breeze that carried the annoying
little mosquitoes with it. The porch offered the most
comfortable place, screened in and commodiously
furnished. Once there, the girls got ready for a
“good talk,” and presently Terry’s mother joined
them.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t make too much out of this,” she
warned. “You girls will become gossips if you don’t
be careful,” she laughed.</p>
<p>“But, Mother,” Terry insisted, “he was so mad,
and Tania was quite wild with rage. There must
be something wrong about it.”</p>
<p>“Tania is a nervous dog, she barks at everyone,”
Mrs. Landry remarked.</p>
<p>“She knows us now. I don’t think she’d bark at
us ever again,” Terry decided rather triumphantly.</p>
<p>As though to prove this assertion, at that very
moment Tania came bounding up the path. Her
beautiful silky fur was coated with mud from the
marsh, and water was dripping from her as the dog
pranced along. She reached the screen door and
gave a little “woof,” asking to come in.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_59">[59]</div>
<p>Arden got up and opened the door. At once
Tania, in high spirits, planted her muddy feet on
Arden’s shoulders and licked her face. Arden staggered
backward from the weight of the dog and
stumbled over a chair. Tania could not keep on her
own feet, and the two went down with a mighty
bump. In the scramble Tania again playfully licked
Arden’s face in the most reassuring if not the most
dignified way.</p>
<p>Terry and Sim were laughing so hard they could
do nothing to help, and Arden rolled over and
buried her face in her hands. It was so sudden and
so funny.</p>
<p>“Tania!” called Mrs. Landry sharply. “Stop it!
Come here at once!”</p>
<p>At the sound of her name, Tania looked up and
walked with her usual dignity to Terry’s mother,
obediently resting her head in the woman’s lap. Mrs.
Landry rubbed the silky ears and gently scolded the
dog, while Arden scrambled to her feet and
attempted to brush off the mud.</p>
<p>“See, Mother,” Terry said as she stopped laughing.
“I told you she knew us.”</p>
<p>At that Terry reached out a hand to pet the
animal and then exclaimed in surprise: “Look!
Tania has a note under her collar!”</p>
<p>Quickly Terry pulled it out and began to read.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_60">[60]</div>
<p>“It’s from Dimitri,” she announced as her chums
waited to hear. “He wants to know if we can go
back and get his guest, as his boat has sprung a leak
and he can’t use it. Oh, Mother, may we go?”</p>
<p>“You’ll have to, I guess, since you took her over
there,” said Mrs. Landry somewhat reluctantly.
“But not all of you. With Tania and your queer
lady passenger the boat would be too crowded. Just
two of you should go, I think.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Mother, can’t we all go?” Terry begged,
reasoning that she, as the best rower, must necessarily
go, and hating to leave one of her chums at
home.</p>
<p>“No, I think it would be too crowded. I’d worry.
Why don’t you toss a coin and decide which one is to
go with you?” Mrs. Landry suggested. She always
worked with the girls, never against them.</p>
<p>Terry dashed into the house and, coming out,
cried: “Heads Arden goes—tails Sim does.” She
flipped the coin into the air and caught it on the back
of one hand, cleverly, covering it for a moment with
her other hand. Then she announced: “You win,
Arden. It’s too bad, Sim dear. But you can take care
of Mother, and we’ll come back just as soon as we
can and tell you every little thing; won’t we,
Arden?”</p>
<p>“Oh, surely!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_61">[61]</div>
<p>As was natural, perhaps, Terry and Arden were
too excited to notice whether or not Sim minded
very much being thus left behind. The two hurried
down to the rowboat with Tania trotting after
them. The dog curled up on the broad stern seat,
and Arden sat near her to restrain her if necessary.
But there was no need. Tania seemed very much
accustomed to boats and hardly stirred.</p>
<p>Terry rowed quickly in the direction of the <i>Merry
Jane</i>. From her position Arden could see Dimitri
and his somewhat mysterious guest out on the narrow,
railed walk that extended all around the house
part of the boat. The Russian was obviously waiting
for those whom he had summoned by the note
on his dog’s collar. The woman Olga was talking
to him rapidly, as Terry and Arden could hear.
They noticed, as they drew nearer, that her face
seemed paler than before, and her eyes were
flaming. Dimitri looked quizzically at the approaching
boat, and when they pulled alongside he quickly
grasped Tania by the collar. The dog was transformed,
suddenly, from the dignified white animal
who had sat so quietly in the boat, to a raging,
snarling beast. Dimitri hustled her on the houseboat
and made her secure somewhere inside. He reappeared
almost at once and said to Terry and Arden:</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_62">[62]</div>
<p>“It is most kind of you to do this. I do not like
to be such a nuisance, but I promise you it shall not
happen again.” The girls thought he seemed too
cross even to talk to them.</p>
<p>He motioned to Olga, who jumped lightly into
the boat.</p>
<p>“Good-bye, Dimitri,” she said clearly. “You have
won this time, but it is not the end, by any means.”</p>
<p>“<i>Au’voir</i>, then, Olga, till we meet again. I hope it
will not be—too soon,” he said, totally ignoring all
politeness and smiling, the girls thought, bitterly.</p>
<p>“Thank you, comrade,” he said to Terry. “Will
you take her back now? She is driving to New York
tonight.”</p>
<p>Though he spoke to Terry, his remark almost
seemed like an order to the dark woman, an order
delivered in such a tone that it would seem foolhardy
to overlook it. So Terry nodded her sandy
head, and Arden said, “Good-bye,” almost inaudibly.
Then they started back once more to Terry’s
landing.</p>
<p>When they were out of earshot the woman
apparently regained some of her composure; at
least, she did not seem so angry.</p>
<p>“You know Dimitri, then?” she asked in an
attempt to be pleasant.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_63">[63]</div>
<p>“We gave him some candles one night, and he
lent us an oar once,” Arden answered. “We don’t
see him very often.”</p>
<p>“No, and you won’t,” the woman added. “He is a
queer one. Did he ever show you any of his things?
Any jewels, maybe?”</p>
<p>“Only some pictures. Why?” Arden asked
frankly.</p>
<p>“I just wondered. Of course, he is very fond of
his pictures and that dog of his,” she went on. “The
largest picture. Did you see it?”</p>
<p>Arden shook her head.</p>
<p>“Oh, well,” Olga shrugged her shoulders and
adjusted her silver fox scarf. “He won’t bother you
again, I’m sure,” and she smiled to herself.</p>
<p>They reached “Buckingham Palace,” and Olga
stepped out. With a perfunctory “thank you” she
hurried to her car. There was Melissa Clayton
gazing at it in raptures. Running her fingers over the
shining fenders and pushing the upholstery to test
its softness, Melissa was enchanted.</p>
<p>As Terry and Arden watched, they could see
Olga speak to Melissa. The girl answered, her face
wreathed in smiles. Then, as Olga spoke again,
Melissa hurried around to the side away from the
steering wheel and got in the car, shutting the door
after her.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_64">[64]</div>
<p>Olga, settling herself, started the motor, reversed
the car on the narrow sandy road, and turned
back the way she had come, with Melissa beside
her.</p>
<p>For a moment the girls were speechless.</p>
<p>Melissa going off in the strange woman’s car!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_65">[65]</div>
<h2 id="c7"><br />CHAPTER VII
<br />A Noise in the Night</h2>
<p>“Well, what do you think of that?” Terry exclaimed
as Arden and she, still in the boat at the
little dock, watched Melissa get into Olga’s car and
drive away.</p>
<p>“Suppose she kidnaps little Melissa?” Arden
facetiously suggested. “We must tell Sim. I wonder
where she is.”</p>
<p>“Sim! We’re back!” Terry called. “Where are
you?”</p>
<p>“Here,” Sim answered from inside the house. “I
was writing a letter. Come on up to my room and
tell me all about it.”</p>
<p>Arden and Terry, each carrying an oar, almost
ran from the dock to the house, and Sim, who could
not wait for them to come up to her room, met
them at the door.</p>
<p>“Tell me all about it! I’m sure something exciting
happened. I can tell by your faces,” Sim exclaimed
quickly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_66">[66]</div>
<p>“First, we’ll tell you about the lovers’ quarrel,”
Terry joked. “And if <i>they</i> are lovers——”</p>
<p>“They are not,” flatly declared Arden. “More like
partners in crime——”</p>
<p>“Hey, there!” warned Sim, “no crime in this. Go
ahead, children. What happened?”</p>
<p>“Well, he was mad as hops when we got there,”
began Terry.</p>
<p>“And she was, too,” Arden added.</p>
<p>“He practically said he hoped he’d never see her
again,” Terry resumed.</p>
<p>“She was positively <i>livid</i> when she got in the boat,
and then she calmed down and tried to be nice to
us,” Arden took up the tale.</p>
<p>“He called me ‘comrade.’ Wasn’t that sweet?”
Terry wanted to know.</p>
<p>“I can’t figure it out at all,” Sim confessed. “And
from the window I saw Melissa Clayton get in the
gay car—imagine that! Melissa’s been hanging
around here all the time you were away. She walked
around the house once, and then I saw her peek in
the kitchen window.”</p>
<p>“What can she want, I wonder?” Arden mused.
“She’s a peculiar girl. Hope she isn’t in any trouble
with that sour old dad of hers.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_67">[67]</div>
<p>“Looks to me as though we’ve dropped right into
the middle of another mystery,” Terry announced,
nodding her head wisely. “Maybe there are always
mysteries, but only <i>wise girls</i> really discover them.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Terry!” Sim exclaimed woefully. “I did so
want to be lazy this summer. Mysteries are terribly
wearing.”</p>
<p>“Well, you can be as lazy as you want to be, but
for my part I’m in this mystery up to my ears
already, and I find it thrilling,” Terry announced
firmly.</p>
<p>Dinner that night was a somewhat hectic meal,
for no one had a chance to finish a sentence about the
mysterious Olga and the departure of Melissa before
someone else would break in with the announcement
of a new theory.</p>
<p>Ida, the maid, did her serving wide-eyed with
amazement. She was not a girl to be easily frightened,
but she possessed a great deal of natural
curiosity. Despite Mrs. Landry’s efforts to shift the
conversation into other channels, the names Dimitri,
Olga, and Melissa popped up constantly.</p>
<p>Eventually the little house was quiet, with its
occupants settled down for the night. Sim and Arden
in one room and Terry alone in her own.</p>
<p>Sim and Arden literally talked themselves to
sleep, but Terry lay awake for a long time listening
to the lap of the waves on the shore and the chirp of
the crickets and grasshoppers in the sedges.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_68">[68]</div>
<p>It seemed as if Terry had just gone to sleep when
she was awakened by a sound somewhere in the
house. She listened. It was a barely perceptible
squeak, as if a window were being pushed up very
gently. She started, then sat upright. Yes, there it
was again. Then, without waiting for robe or
slippers, she jumped out of bed and ran down the
short hall to Sim and Arden.</p>
<p>“Arden! Sim!” she called. “Wake up!”</p>
<p>“H-m-m?” grunted Sim sleepily.</p>
<p>“Someone’s trying to get in!” Terry whispered
hoarsely.</p>
<p>Arden was awake instantly. “Where, Terry?” she
murmured.</p>
<p>“Downstairs, I guess. Sh-h-h! Listen!” Terry put
a warning finger to her lips.</p>
<p>Sim was sitting up now, and the three girls were
as quiet as statues in the eerie moonlight streaming
in the open window.</p>
<p>“There it is again! Did you hear it? Just a tiny
squeak,” Terry asked.</p>
<p>“It seems to be coming from the dining room.
Had we better call your mother?” Arden asked in a
low voice.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_69">[69]</div>
<p>They listened again, with hearts pounding and
eyes questioning. What could it be? Or rather who
could it be? Down at Oceanedge it was customary
not to lock doors, and windows were usually left
wide open. But Mrs. Landry, being city-bred, could
never get out of the habit of locking up for the
night. Whoever it was, seemed deliberately trying to
force up a window, and it sounded as if the hands
were slipping on the glass.</p>
<p>“Can you light the downstairs lights from up here,
Terry?” asked Arden. “Don’t you think it would be
a good idea to show them we’re awake?”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course, Arden,” Terry quickly replied.
“I should have thought of that before. I’ll turn on
the hall lights downstairs and give them an alarm!”</p>
<p>She slipped softly out into the hall and pushed a
button. With a little snap the lights flashed on. Then
silently the alarmists waited with apprehension.
What should the next move be?</p>
<p>The sound was not heard again, and the girls in
Sim’s room breathed a little easier.</p>
<p>“Do you think—they’re gone?” Sim whispered.</p>
<p>“I don’t hear anything; do you?” Arden asked.</p>
<p>“S-sh-h-h!” Terry hissed, and she went to the
window.</p>
<p>The scene below was flooded with moonlight. The
sandy stretch, so clear and unbroken, could not possibly
hide a marauder. Terry was hoping to see the
intruder make a dash for the safety of the garage
shadow.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_70">[70]</div>
<p>“Look!” she whispered to the girls. “It’s a
woman!”</p>
<p>Arden and Sim dashed to the window just in time
to witness the flight of someone, who, they did not
know, in the bright moonlight. The figure was oddly
distorted both by the light and the height from
which they were looking.</p>
<p>“Who?” Arden asked cryptically.</p>
<p>Terry shrugged in reply. The figure ran swiftly
and was almost instantly lost to sight in the shadow
of the garage.</p>
<p>“There’s nothing we can do now,” Terry remarked.
“And there’s no use waking Mother. She’d
only worry.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps we had better tell Chief Reilly in the
morning,” Arden suggested. “Isn’t it something new,
having burglars around here?”</p>
<p>“I never heard of one before. I didn’t think they
ever came down here,” Terry remarked. They were
still looking out toward the garage.</p>
<p>“But this could hardly have been an ordinary
prowler,” Sim reminded them. “We may as well go
back to bed. She surely won’t come back, whoever
she was.”</p>
<p>“I’ll leave the lights on downstairs. We must try
to get some sleep,” Terry said, her stifled yawn
entirely agreeing.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_71">[71]</div>
<p>“Want to come in here?” invited Arden to Terry,
who roomed alone.</p>
<p>“Oh—I don’t know. I’m not afraid,” Terry
answered a little ruefully. “But since you suggested
it, yes, I guess I will. Move over, Sim.”</p>
<p>After all, three girls might be better than one for
almost any midnight alarm.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_72">[72]</div>
<h2 id="c8"><br />CHAPTER VIII
<br />Hard to Believe</h2>
<p>Smiling to herself in the darkness, Sim pushed
over in the twin bed so that Terry could get in. Even
at that, neither one would have very much space, and
Sim was amused to think that Terry, the trenchant,
should feel like spending the rest of the night with
her rather than alone in her own bed.</p>
<p>“I’ll see that Rufus Reilly hears about this,” remarked
Terry, burrowing under the covers. “The
idea of disturbing honest peace-loving people in the
middle of the night! What Oceanedge is coming to,
I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“Who’s Rufus Reilly?” asked Arden.</p>
<p>“He’s the police force,” Terry replied. “He owns
the only garage in the village and Dimitri’s houseboat
too.”</p>
<p>“Quite a factor in the life of the community, isn’t
he?” Sim murmured sleepily.</p>
<p>“Don’t make fun of him, Sim,” Terry rebuked.
“He’s a very important man. He says so himself.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_73">[73]</div>
<p>“Well, I’m going to sleep,” Arden declared, yawning
freely. “I want to look my best when I meet the
chief.”</p>
<p>The conversation dragged, and feeling secure in
the knowledge that the midnight intruder had gone,
the girls finally drifted off to sleep.</p>
<p>The next morning, after breakfast, and with Mrs.
Landry’s consent, they started for the village to report
to Chief Reilly.</p>
<p>Leaving by the front door, they were on their way
to the garage at the back when they came face to
face with George Clayton, Melissa’s father.</p>
<p>“Good-morning,” he said a little sheepishly. Perhaps
he was conscious of his somewhat fishy-scented
clothes and muddy hip boots.</p>
<p>“’Morning,” Terry replied, and waited for him
to speak again. All the girls felt rather antagonistic
toward him, since they had witnessed his treatment
of Melissa.</p>
<p>“I wuz wonderin’,” he began again, “that is—have
you young ladies seen anythin’ of my daughter
Melissa?”</p>
<p>“Why, no. Not since early last evening,” Arden
replied. “Why?”</p>
<p>“I wuz a little worried about her. She ain’t been
home all night, and I thought maybe——”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_74">[74]</div>
<p>“The last time we saw her, she was riding in a
green car that some woman who came to see the
artist on the houseboat parked here,” Sim volunteered.</p>
<p>George Clayton blinked his eyes rapidly and
seemed at a loss for anything to say to that surprising
news.</p>
<p>“U-hum-m!” He shook his head. “Melissa ain’t
entirely responsible, you know. She’s overly fond of
bright things. Like a blue jay. She just can’t resist
’em.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Arden. “I do hope nothing
happened to her.”</p>
<p>“We were just going to the village to tell Rufus
Reilly about a burglar we had around here last
night,” Terry explained. “Shall we tell him to look
for Melissa?”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, miss, please!” Clayton exclaimed. “He
knows all about Melissa. Thinks I ought to send her
to some institution. But I can’t bear—to do that,”
he concluded rather pathetically.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you let her keep the bracelet the
other day?” Sim asked suddenly. “It was only
worth a quarter. Perhaps she ran away because
you——”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_75">[75]</div>
<p>“I know, miss,” Clayton interrupted, “she possibly
told you how mean I was to her. But if I let her
keep it she’d follow you around all the time, looking
for something else.” After all, perhaps the man was
not so mean as they had thought.</p>
<p>“Say!” exclaimed Terry suddenly. “Maybe that
was Melissa we heard last night, coming back for the
bracelet!”</p>
<p>“It did look like her, I mean her height and all,”
agreed Sim. “I’m sure that’s just who it was.”</p>
<p>“She might have done it,” the fisherman admitted
reluctantly. “You won’t tell Reilly, will you?”</p>
<p>“If you can keep her away from here so she won’t
scare us out of our wits again, we won’t,” Terry
agreed. For the girls still believed in their hearts
that Melissa was to be pitied and, though he said
not, they felt that her father was a hard man to deal
with.</p>
<p>“When she comes back I’ll——” Clayton began
but never finished, for there was Melissa herself
walking toward them along the little path. Her pale
pink cotton dress was a mass of wrinkles, and her
hair in uncouth disarray. One white string of her
sneakers flapped as she walked.</p>
<p>Instantly her father was a changed man. As soon
as he saw her he drew himself up to his full height
and assumed an aggressive manner.</p>
<p>“Melissa!” he shouted. “Come here!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_76">[76]</div>
<p>“Yes, Pa,” she answered meekly and came
slowly forward with one arm held up near her face
as though to ward off a blow.</p>
<p>“Where wuz you last night?” he demanded.</p>
<p>“Here, Pa. I slept in the car in the garage,” came
the surprising reply.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you come home?” he shouted at her.</p>
<p>“I was afraid to. The lady took me for such a
nice ride, it was late when I got back.” Poor Melissa,
thought the girls.</p>
<p>“What lady?” snarled her father.</p>
<p>“I dunno her name. The pretty one with the nice
fur. She asked me if I’d like a ride, so I said yes.
She gave me a quarter, too.” Melissa held out her
tanned hand and showed them the money.</p>
<p>“Don’t you know any better than to go riding off
with strangers?” her father shouted. “And scarin’
these young ladies, who was so nice to you, out of
their wits? Wuz you around this house last night?”</p>
<p>“I was just lookin’ in a window. I didn’t mean
any harm.” How cruel for a poor girl to be helpless!</p>
<p>“Well, you come along home with me.”</p>
<p>Melissa looked woefully at the surprised girls and
started off to follow her father, who went clumping
down the path in his hip boots.</p>
<p>“Mr. Clayton,” called Arden after him. “Please
don’t punish Melissa; she didn’t do any harm.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_77">[77]</div>
<p>“I’ll take care of Melissa,” he answered shortly,
completely forgetting how anxious he had been only
a short time before to appear the worried father.</p>
<p>“If you touch her I’ll, I’ll——” Arden said, but
he continued on his way, not even listening to her.</p>
<p>“What a horrid old man!” Terry remarked
anxiously. “First he shows his concern and
then——”</p>
<p>“His teeth,” finished Sim.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_78">[78]</div>
<h2 id="c9"><br />CHAPTER IX
<br />The Snuffbox</h2>
<p>Several days after their rather unpleasant meeting
with Melissa’s father, George Clayton, the three
girls were “soaking up the sun” on the beach. Of
course, as it developed, there was nothing to report
to Chief Reilly. They were quite sure that Melissa
had been their erstwhile burglar. More than ever
the girls felt Melissa needed a friend. They talked
over the situation, trying to piece together the girl’s
story and her father’s denial of that part which
blamed him. But whether he was entirely fair and
just, trying to protect his daughter, or whether his
allusions to her “being queer” were merely a pretext
to excuse himself, not even Arden the wise ventured
to decide. But in the end the opinion was unanimous
that Melissa needed friends, and they each and all
resolved to do all they could to befriend the strange,
wild creature.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_79">[79]</div>
<p>But finally the delightfully warm air, the friendly
sun, and the inviting ocean drove all such serious
thoughts from their minds. What could be more perfect
than such a day in such a place for such girls!</p>
<p>Sim was almost asleep, while Arden and Terry
were blissfully drowsy. They were turning a golden
tan, most becoming to all save Terry, who, as she
herself declared, was “raising a fine crop of
freckles.”</p>
<p>Arden rolled over on her back and then sat bolt
upright in surprise. Far out of the corner of her eye
she could see Dimitri Uzlov in bathing togs coming
toward them.</p>
<p>“Wake up, kids,” she hissed in a stage whisper.
“Here comes our hero, and he’s tramping right this
way. Don’t look now! He’ll know I told you.”</p>
<p>Of course they did look, even though Arden had
warned them not to. But the oncoming “hero” didn’t
seem to mind. In fact, he smiled pleasantly and deliberately
sat down on the sand by Arden.</p>
<p>“Hello,” said Arden casually, while Terry and
Sim smiled vacuously.</p>
<p>“Hello,” he answered. “It was awfully kind of you
to bring my—” he began—“I want to thank you for
rowing over to the houseboat and back with my—— That
is, I hope it did not trouble you too much,” he
stammered.</p>
<p>He was clearly embarrassed and not at all sure
how to proceed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_80">[80]</div>
<p>Arden realized at once that Dimitri was attempting
to explain and for some reason apologize for the
visit of the mysterious Olga.</p>
<p>“Not at all,” Arden replied reassuringly. “We
didn’t mind a bit.”</p>
<p>“I did not expect her. I was quite surprised. I do
not think she will come again.”</p>
<p>In his embarrassment his accent was becoming
more pronounced, and Sim and Terry shot a sly
glance of delight at each other.</p>
<p>“Please don’t let that little thing worry you,”
Arden hastened to add. “It was nothing at all.”</p>
<p>“You are very kind,” Dimitri smiled. “I would
like to ask you all, and your mother,” he nodded to
Terry, “to take tea with me on the houseboat. Perhaps
it would amuse you to have tea in the Russian
manner. Yes?”</p>
<p>“We’d love it,” Terry replied quickly, “and I
know Mother would, too.”</p>
<p>“Would I be giving you too short notice to ask
you today? I am letting up a bit in my work, and
tomorrow I must begin again with new vigor,” the
young man stated simply.</p>
<p>“I’m sure it will be all right,” Terry answered.
“We don’t have many dates down here, and if
Mother can come, we’ll all be over this afternoon.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_81">[81]</div>
<p>“That will be charming,” Dimitri said. “I will expect
you. And now I must go home and bathe Tania
so she will look her best at my little party.”</p>
<p>He rose and bowed, quite as dignified as if he had
been fully dressed instead of merely wearing the informal
bathing suit; then he left them smiling after
him.</p>
<p>“What a surprise!” gasped Sim.</p>
<p>“What a lark!” insisted Arden.</p>
<p>“What fun!” squealed Terry.</p>
<p>“He’s so young and good-looking to have such an
ugly old name,” went on Arden, as if anxious to
reconstruct the “hero” into somebody more American.</p>
<p>“Adds to the glamour,” drawled Terry with
assumed sophistication. “I always did adore those
foreign names.”</p>
<p>“Too, too divine,” mocked Sim.</p>
<p>“Hey, there!” exclaimed Terry. “We have got to
go right now and tell Mother. He said this afternoon.”</p>
<p>“Not yet,” Arden rebuked. “Wait until he gets
out of sight. He’ll think we’ve never been asked any
place before if we act so—grabby.”</p>
<p>Impatiently they sat and waited until Dimitri had
gone behind the small pavilion; then they scrambled
up and hurried to tell Terry’s mother.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_82">[82]</div>
<p>She was much amused at their exuberance and
laughed at the serious way they had of deciding what
they would wear. A simple tea on a houseboat and
all this to-do!</p>
<p>Eventually the hour rolled around, and they set
out in high spirits, Terry puffing as much with excitement
as with effort as she rowed the boatful
down the bay.</p>
<p>Once on the houseboat they were somewhat ill at
ease. But Dimitri was a perfect host and with Old
World courtesy succeeded in making them feel, as
Arden said later, “like the visiting Czarina and her
daughters.”</p>
<p>Tania was beautifully white and fluffy, greeting
them all with a friendly “woof” and briskly wagging
tail.</p>
<p>“Oh, a samovar!” exclaimed Arden as she sighted
the polished brass urn with a dull glowing charcoal
fire underneath.</p>
<p>“It is only to boil the water. I could have done it
on the oil stove, but I thought you would like it this
way,” Dimitri said, smiling.</p>
<p>“We are enjoying it,” Terry assured him. “Won’t
you show Mother some of your pictures?” she cautiously
interposed.</p>
<p>“They are really not worth looking at,” he replied
modestly. And he seemed sincere about it, too.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_83">[83]</div>
<p>“Of course they are,” Arden interrupted.
“They’re lovely.”</p>
<p>Dimitri pulled one canvas out from a pile leaning
against the wall. It was a marine, done in dark and
light blues, a fair sea and a clear sky. The girls
looked at it politely but hoped he would show them
the covered canvas, and in fact Arden stood near it,
waiting. Dimitri noticed her and gazed at her keenly
for a second, as though understanding her wish.</p>
<p>“Now, I will show you something really lovely,”
he said. “Because I am proud of it and because it is
a thing of so much beauty. I do not show it to everyone;
few people know I have it, and I ask you,
please, not to mention to anyone that I have it in my
possession. Pardon me a minute, please.”</p>
<p>He pushed aside a curtain that divided the room
into two parts and disappeared behind the improvised
screen. They could hear him moving something
like a heavy piece of furniture, and then they heard
the squeak of a key in a lock. They looked wonderingly
at each other, but no one spoke. What could he
be going to show them? Why all the mystery?</p>
<p>He came back almost at once, holding something
in his hands as though it were too precious to be
exposed to the air. Silently they gathered around
him, and cautiously, almost solemnly, he opened his
hands!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_84">[84]</div>
<p>Then they beheld the treasure!</p>
<p>There, shining dully on his carefully outstretched
palm, they beheld a box, a tiny snuffbox of burnished
gold!</p>
<p>“Oh!” came a chorus. But no other word was
spoken.</p>
<p>Somehow this all seemed like some sacred rite to
their still bewildered eyes which could now discern
jewels, even diamonds, surrounding the box.</p>
<p>It was about four inches long and an inch deep,
with a delicately painted medallion top, the medallion
framed by precious stones: diamonds and
rubies!</p>
<p>Dimitri was watching them intently, his own eyes
glittering with the beauty of his valued possession.</p>
<p>Terry’s mother took a step nearer. Even she had
fallen under the spell of this strange treasure.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_85">[85]</div>
<h2 id="c10"><br />CHAPTER X
<br />Beauty That Dazzled</h2>
<p>“How perfectly beautiful!” exclaimed Arden.
“What is it?”</p>
<p>“It is a snuffbox that once belonged to the Russian
Czar. It is of great value. A fortune almost.” He
held it so they could all see it. “Now watch.”</p>
<p>With his thumb he pushed down a section of the
golden side. This uncovered a small compartment in
which rested a little key. He took out the key and
turned the box upside down. Then they saw that the
under side was as elaborately designed as the top.
Daintily painted miniature woodland scenes with
birds and a bounding deer. He inserted the key in a
tiny hole and gave it a few turns, then very carefully
placed the box on a near-by table.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_86">[86]</div>
<p>The beautiful medallion in the center of the box
showed a brightly plumaged bird on a tropical tree,
and around the medallion, like a frame, was a row
of marvelous diamonds and rubies. The box suddenly
opened, as the group watched, and a tiny bird,
not much over a half inch in height, sprang up, turned
his little head from side to side, and moved his wee
feathered wings up and down magically. As they
waited, awe-struck, the tinkle of a song was heard,
and it seemed as though the little feathered creature
was actually singing. Then in a flash the fairy songster
ceased his song, folded up his wings, and the
medallion snapped shut, leaving the golden and
bejeweled box as the cage of the little wizard.</p>
<p>“Oh!” gasped Arden, the first to speak. “It is so
lovely it almost makes me feel like crying,” she stammered.
“Could you make him do it again?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Dimitri replied. “Did you see this
little watch in the side and the real feathers on the
little bird?”</p>
<p>“I have never seen anything like it!” exclaimed
Mrs. Landry. “It must be worth a fortune.”</p>
<p>“It is,” solemnly answered Dimitri. “It is the only
really valuable possession I have left except——”
He turned aside without finishing the sentence.
Again he wound the spring, and once more the remarkable
performance was repeated. The artist let
them each examine the treasure, and at last taking it
from Arden he looked at it fondly and very deliberately
carried it back to its hiding place. When he
returned he remarked:</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_87">[87]</div>
<p>“I could not bear to lose it, and perhaps it is
childish of me to keep it with me instead of in some
deep bank vault, but it belonged to my mother, and
I like to have it near me to look at when I become
discouraged.”</p>
<p>The girls were still spellbound, while Mrs.
Landry assured him that it was the natural thing
to do and hoped it would be quite safe in his affectionate
keeping.</p>
<p>“I have hidden it well, I hope, and I need not tell
you why I have trusted you all.”</p>
<p>There was something so pathetically frank about
the artist’s proud display of his treasure that even
the girls, who had joked and speculated upon the
mysterious man, were now profoundly impressed.</p>
<p>“We will never violate your confidence.” Mrs.
Landry spoke for the group, but even that polite
assurance seemed unnecessary.</p>
<p>Somehow the artist knew he could trust them;
and he had!</p>
<p>“And now, will you try some tea, Russian style?”</p>
<p>The girls agreed all at once and wanted to help,
but he waved them aside and served them quite as
though he were accustomed to having four guests
every day in the week on this wobbly old houseboat.</p>
<p>They sat, sipping from glasses the clear amber
liquid though Dimitri, as a concession to their
American tastes, offered them cream as well as
sliced lemon. He sweetened his own clear tea liberally.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_88">[88]</div>
<p>The houseboat, for all the masculine untidiness,
was a bright pleasant place, and the little party
chatted like old friends until Mrs. Landry announced
they must go.</p>
<p>“We must not wear out our welcome, you know,”
she said lightly, “and perhaps you will come and
have dinner with us some time, Mr. Uzlov.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, I would be pleased to,” he suavely
answered.</p>
<p>Then, saying good-bye, they left, a smiling, happy
foursome, and started away in the old rowboat over
to the Landry landing.</p>
<p>As Terry pushed out in the boat they heard a light
step, surely a girl’s step, and a few seconds later they
saw Melissa rowing quickly away from the side of
the houseboat.</p>
<p>“There’s Melissa,” Sim exclaimed needlessly, for
they had all seen her. “No need to worry about her
comings and goings.”</p>
<p>“She’s always around from one place to another.
I suppose she doesn’t know what to do with herself
all day,” Terry answered between strokes, taking it
all very casually.</p>
<p>“Where is her home, Terry? Is it near here?”
Arden asked.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_89">[89]</div>
<p>“Not very. It’s clear across the bay; two or three
miles, anyway, isn’t it, Mother?”</p>
<p>“Every bit of that,” Mrs. Landry replied. “Poor
creature! She doesn’t lead a very happy life. I hope
you girls will be kind to her if you can.”</p>
<p>“Of course we will, Mrs. Landry,” Sim assured
her, and then in another mood she asked, “Wasn’t
that a knockout snuffbox? Imagine keeping nasty old
snuff in it.”</p>
<p>“Dimitri doesn’t keep <i>anything</i> in it. He loves it
because it’s so beautiful,” Arden announced.
“There’s a true artist for you.” She was very much
in earnest.</p>
<p>“You like him a little, don’t you, Arden?” Terry
asked whimsically.</p>
<p>“Don’t be silly, Terry! You like him, too,” Arden
snapped back.</p>
<p>“We all do, even Mrs. Landry, don’t you?” Sim
wanted to know, joining in the complimentary
chorus.</p>
<p>Terry’s mother smiled and nodded.</p>
<p>“Well, I think it’s strange, just the same,” Arden
said almost to herself, “very strange.”</p>
<p>“What, the box?” Sim inquired.</p>
<p>“No; but I mean the way he spoke about Olga,
and the way he keeps that picture covered,” Arden
answered. “And a lot of things not really—well, not
exactly wordy things but <i>queer</i> things,” she wound
up vaguely.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_90">[90]</div>
<p>“Melissa is odd too. Why do you suppose Olga
took her riding and gave her money?” Terry asked,
adding more interest to the mystifying questions.</p>
<p>“I can’t imagine. It’s strange the way she always
pops up,” Arden added. “I mean Melissa, not Olga.”</p>
<p>“I don’t like her father, either,” Terry went on.
“He’s the meanest man I ever saw, and I don’t believe
a word he says!”</p>
<p>“Now, Terry,” Mrs. Landry rebuked, “you know
nothing about him. He’s just not like the city people
we’re used to, and you probably misjudge him.”</p>
<p>“But he seems so cruel and crafty. I wonder if he
punished Melissa for staying away the other night?
The night she stayed in the garage.”</p>
<p>“Oh, he couldn’t!” Arden exclaimed. “I’ll ask
Melissa the next time I see her. I wonder where she
went just now? I don’t see her boat anywhere. She
seems to have disappeared all of a sudden.”</p>
<p>“Playing hide and seek with us, maybe,” Terry
suggested. “Hope we don’t catch any of this queer
business,” she finished, easing a little to look at her
burning hand.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_91">[91]</div>
<p>“I think this whole place is queer,” Sim said, looking
over the untroubled bay. “I don’t like that Olga,
nor George Clayton, either, and I’m sure he’s up to
some shady business—not to say dark and
dangerous.”</p>
<p>“Now, Sim,” Mrs. Landry said gently, “you
mustn’t make a mystery out of everything. He’s
probably just an ordinary crabber and fisherman
with a difficult daughter to look out for, and in these
wild places girls cannot be allowed to run wild, you
know.”</p>
<p>They were almost home, and everyone seemed
willing to think a little and stop talking. “Buckingham
Palace” stood out with reassuring friendliness
against the late afternoon sky and looked decidedly
more inviting than the moldy houseboat.</p>
<p>“You may be right, Mother,” Terry said, pulling
the oars gently as they drifted up to their little dock.
“But there’s something going on, I’m sure. Something
we don’t know anything about—yet,” she
ended significantly.</p>
<p>And no one there was to say “nay” to that possibility.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_92">[92]</div>
<h2 id="c11"><br />CHAPTER XI
<br />Still They Come</h2>
<p>The girls did not really enjoy the tea as it had
been served on the <i>Merry Jane</i>. Not that the tea
wasn’t good; it must have been, for Russian tea is
famous. But it tasted that way, they thought—“famous.”
Home-made tea was much more congenial.
Consequently, at home again, the tea given
them at “Buckingham Palace” when supper was
served was even more appreciated than usual.</p>
<p>“Maybe that water from the samovar——” began
Terry.</p>
<p>“No, those old brass urns are lined with—well,
I think it’s tin or lead,” Arden informed them.
“Grandfather had one; bought it from a man who
used to work for Tolstoi. It had the stamp from
what this man called the president’s factory, which
meant, I believe, it was made in a sort of royal
shop,” Arden concluded.</p>
<p>“Why, what a lot you know,” teased Sim. “Why
didn’t you tell the artist? He might trace some relationship——”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_93">[93]</div>
<p>“Oh, say!” interrupted Terry. “You and your
old samovar! What about the jeweled box? Don’t
you feel guilty to have seen a thing—so—well, so
precious?”</p>
<p>This brought on a discussion so animated and so
filled with questions and exclamations that the beauty
of the snuffbox must have been greatly enhanced by
so much young enthusiasm.</p>
<p>Afterwards they were sitting, as had become their
custom, on the screened porch. The first one out
always claimed the comfortable swing. Next in favor
came two large, low wicker chairs covered with
bright striped linen. Tonight Terry was in the swing
and Arden and Sim curled up in chairs.</p>
<p>They must have been talking very loudly or else
have been asleep, they facetiously decided later.
How else could they explain the fact that a car had
driven right up to the back door and they had not
heard it?</p>
<p>In fact they all jumped with surprise when Arden
called their attention to a young man, coming up the
sandy path.</p>
<p>“Sit up, girls, here comes another visitor,” she
exclaimed. “What now, I wonder?”</p>
<p>The young man hesitated as he reached the screen
door.</p>
<p>“Good-evening,” said Arden pleasantly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_94">[94]</div>
<p>“Good-evening,” responded the caller. “I hope I
have not disturbed you, but I wonder if you could
tell me how to reach a houseboat? I understand it is
somewhere near here.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you mean <i>Merry Jane</i>,” Sim piped up
brightly. “Lots of people ask us that. That is, you’re
the second one who has inquired,” she replied, feeling
a little foolish at being so friendly.</p>
<p>He smiled amicably and said he hoped they had
not been bothered in that way.</p>
<p>“We didn’t mind,” Terry chimed in. “We don’t
have much to do here, anyway.” The girls really
were being silly.</p>
<p>“It’s down the bay, but you can’t reach it by car.
The road is too soft this time of year,” Arden said
helpfully, the first one really to answer his question.</p>
<p>“Is one obliged to walk, then?” the man asked.
His wording was foreign and a slight accent made
it seem more so.</p>
<p>“No; walking would be dangerous, too,” Arden
explained. “The only way is by boat.” She waited to
see what effect this announcement would have, but
Sim spoiled it.</p>
<p>“We have a rowboat you could use. We could
take you,” she announced, still pursuing the rôle of
the very young.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_95">[95]</div>
<p>“But couldn’t I take myself? That is, with your
permission and if you wouldn’t be using the boat?”
He looked questioningly at them.</p>
<p>“I guess we won’t be going out again tonight,”
Terry remarked. “You’ll be careful not to lose the
oars, won’t you? I’ll show you where we keep the
boat.”</p>
<p>Terry, followed by Arden and Sim, led the way
to the dock, stopping to pick up the oars as they
went.</p>
<p>“Let me take them, please,” the caller protested.
Terry handed him the oars.</p>
<p>They wanted very much to ask if he knew Dimitri
and try to get some more information, but they
could not naturally work the talk around to it. The
young man volunteered no information at all. He
seemed quite sure of himself, and Arden fancied she
saw in him a slight resemblance to Dimitri.</p>
<p>When they reached the old rowboat, Terry
pointed down the bay.</p>
<p>“The <i>Merry Jane</i> is just around the bend; if you
stay close to shore, you can’t miss it,” she instructed
the stranger.</p>
<p>They all looked admiringly over the still green
water where the fish were beginning to jump in the
stillness of the evening. The beauty of the bay was
inescapable.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_96">[96]</div>
<p>“Tania, the big dog, will bark, and you can row
in the direction of the noise, if you should be doubtful
about the location,” Arden suggested.</p>
<p>The man raised an eyebrow. “You know Dimitri,
then?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed,” Sim answered. “We’re good
friends.” She felt justified in saying that.</p>
<p>“I am a friend, too,” their caller replied as he got
into the boat. “I’ll take very good care of your skiff
and tie it up very carefully when I return.” He
pushed off and began rowing easily down the bay.
“Good-bye,” he called to the girls. “And thank you,
a thousand times!”</p>
<p>“Good-bye,” Terry answered, while the others
mumbled something.</p>
<p>They waited until he was out of sight, and then
began the flood of “What do you think’s” and
“Maybe’s.” But of course they all agreed on one
thing. That he was very charming and well mannered
and that perhaps all foreigners were that
way. But they decided it was indeed queer the way
Dimitri’s friends all came to them for advice on
reaching the old houseboat. The newest caller gave
rise to plenty of speculation, but the girls retired
earlier than usual, and it was, perhaps, for this reason
that Arden awoke sometime near morning, although
it was still dark. Deciding she could not get
back to sleep, she lay tossing restlessly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_97">[97]</div>
<p>The events of the day marched before her now
active mind. The gold snuffbox, Olga, Tania, Dimitri,
the man who had come that evening. It was all
very puzzling. She turned over and looked at Sim,
sleeping peacefully. Nothing bothered her. Arden
sighed and then started. What was that noise? Another
mysterious visitor? She strained every nerve
to listen. Then she smiled as she realized it was the
motor of an auto purring along. Going to the window,
she saw the stranger’s car move slowly as it
was started and disappear as it gathered speed. She
looked at her wrist watch. The dial showed four-thirty,
and he was just coming back from the houseboat!</p>
<p>“‘Curiouser and curiouser,’” Arden said to herself
as she climbed back to bed. “Alice in Wonderland
had nothing on me. I wonder, too.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_98">[98]</div>
<h2 id="c12"><br />CHAPTER XII
<br />A Friend in the Deep</h2>
<p>“Well, Sim,” said Arden, stretching luxuriously,
“I feel merry as a grig this morning.”</p>
<p>“You don’t say,” Sim replied with sarcasm. “I
guess you haven’t looked outside then. I think we’re
in for a storm. What is a grig, anyway?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know exactly,” Arden continued, “but
that’s how I feel. It’s very merry. How do you
feel?”</p>
<p>“I feel like a chocolate nut sundae,” Sim answered,
making a wry face.</p>
<p>“You’re a little cross, too. What’s the trouble?”
Arden asked.</p>
<p>“Oh, nothing. But I’m thinking, if we do get a
northeaster, there won’t be any bathing for days. I
think I’ll go in today just to get a swim before it
comes,” Sim answered. “Look at that,” she continued,
pointing to the little weather vane on the
garage roof.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_99">[99]</div>
<p>It was quivering in the wind and pointing due
northeast. A brave morning sun was trying to pierce
the leaden clouds, but not making much headway.</p>
<p>A week before, Arden had seen the second mysterious
caller drive away in his car after tying up their
boat. Since then they had neither seen nor heard
from Dimitri, and in an orgy of swimming and sunbathing
had almost forgotten about him, so perfect
had the weather been and so completely had the
girls enjoyed it.</p>
<p>Now Sim and Arden were in their room making
plans for the day, and Terry, in gay bathrobe and
slippers, strolled in to talk things over before breakfast.</p>
<p>“Don’t go in today, Sim, there’s bound to be a
bad undertow; and besides, I have to go to town,”
Terry remarked as she had heard Sim’s decision.</p>
<p>“But the tide will be coming in, and I’ll only take
a short dip. I’ll be ready when you want to go. Let’s
eat now, and by the time we have our rooms in order
I can go in for a swim. Then we’ll drive to the village.
How’s that?” Sim asked, smiling.</p>
<p>“You seem to have it all planned. I suppose it’s
all right. It’s nearly ten now, so let’s go down for
breakfast,” Terry suggested. “I’m hungry.”</p>
<p>Sim and Arden, donning bathrobes and slipping
their feet into soft mules, pattered downstairs after
Terry.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_100">[100]</div>
<p>They ate and put on their bathing suits when they
went upstairs again, a habit they had fallen into
since the lovely weather had begun.</p>
<p>When they went out a little later, Sim wished she
hadn’t been so insistent about swimming. The breakers
were piling in, slapping down on the beach and
churning up a white sudsy foam.</p>
<p>“I’m not going in <i>that</i> sea,” Arden decided, “and
I don’t think you should either, Sim.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense, Arden,” Sim said scornfully. “It looks
a lot worse than it is.”</p>
<p>“We’ll have rain before night,” Terry stated
positively, “and the ocean is getting rougher all the
time. Go on in, Sim, if you’re going to, but be careful.”</p>
<p>In a moment of bravado, Sim flung off her sweater
and ran down to the water. She hesitated for a second
as the cold water whirled around her feet, then,
running swiftly, she plunged in head first. She was
lost to sight immediately, but presently came up
again and waved a hand to Arden and Terry, who
were watching. Then she turned and began to swim
out into the sea.</p>
<p>“I wish she wouldn’t go out,” Arden worried.</p>
<p>“Oh, she’ll be all right. Sim’s a good swimmer,”
Terry reassured her.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_101">[101]</div>
<p>As they watched they could see Sim’s scarlet bathing
cap bobbing in the rough sea. She swam easily
for a while and then floated on her back. Did they
imagine it, or was she having trouble? Arden and
Terry strained their eyes to see. Sim was swimming
hard toward the shore but seemed to be making no
headway.</p>
<p>“She’s having a hard time getting back. Do you
think she’s all right?” Arden asked anxiously.</p>
<p>“Wait—” Terry cautioned—“I’m not sure——”</p>
<p>Sim was still swimming but seemed to be tiring.
She turned over on her back for a brief rest and
began again. But it seemed no use. Apparently she
was caught in a sea-puss and was still making no
headway.</p>
<p>Terrified, Terry and Arden looked at each other,
unable to utter a word. In that instant a figure
flashed by them and disappeared with a splash in the
waves. Still speechless, they both knew——</p>
<p>It was Melissa!</p>
<p>She was going to help Sim to safety. The girls
watching on the beach felt the relief so suddenly
and so completely that each grasped the other.</p>
<p>“Melissa!” breathed Terry.</p>
<p>“She’ll get her,” answered Arden.</p>
<p>What little they had done to make friends with
the girl came now in a rush of grateful memory.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_102">[102]</div>
<p>Yes, Melissa would help them. She was their
friend.</p>
<p>In almost no time at all Melissa and Sim walked
out of the wild sea, a little further down the beach.
Arden and Terry ran down to greet them.</p>
<p>“Sim, you idiot! I told you not to go in. Are you
all right?” Arden asked breathlessly.</p>
<p>“Of course I’m all right,” Sim panted.</p>
<p>“She was caught in a sea-puss. There’s a trick in
getting out. It’s because the storm is coming and the
inlet to the bay is so near,” Melissa answered modestly.</p>
<p>“It was very brave of you to go out, just the
same,” Terry insisted. “It was just fine!”</p>
<p>Sim looked a little sheepish and pulled her sweater
on over her dripping suit.</p>
<p>“Don’t tell your mother, Terry; you know how
she would worry,” Sim said. “Melissa, you were
swell!” she exclaimed.</p>
<p>Melissa smiled happily. It was seldom, indeed,
that her actions pleased anyone. Her whole day
would be happy now, and at night she could lie in
her hard little bed and remember how the girls had
praised her. It took so little to brighten the dull life
of Melissa.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_103">[103]</div>
<p>The girls thanked her again and cautioned her
about telling Mrs. Landry. Then, waving good-bye
to Melissa, they left her, digging her toes in the
sand in embarrassment, with her confused thoughts.</p>
<p>The three girls, a guilty little group, went back to
“Buckingham Palace” and dressed quickly, never
mentioning the almost tragic adventure to Terry’s
mother.</p>
<p>Sim’s feet and hands were still cold when she
climbed into the car beside Arden and Terry, a
while later, as they started for the village.</p>
<p>The storm was coming in rapidly now. The sun
was obscured, and sudden strong gusts of wind
swerved the car as they drove along. It had not yet
begun to rain. But Chief of Police Reilly cocked his
weather eye and “reckoned” it would not be long in
coming. He was filling the gas tank of the little car
and chatting with the girls as he worked.</p>
<p>“How do you like your new neighbor, Miz Landry?”
he asked, showing a shining gold tooth.</p>
<p>“We like him all right, but we don’t see much of
him,” Terry answered, smiling.</p>
<p>“Funny feller,” he chuckled as he wiped off the
windshield. “Wrote to me ’long ’bout last April and
rented my ole boat. Never even saw it.” He gave
the windshield a grand swipe.</p>
<p>“Do you know Melissa Clayton?” Sim asked,
abruptly changing the subject. Her adventure in the
ocean was still fresh in her mind.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_104">[104]</div>
<p>“Sure; everyone knows Melissa,” the chief answered.</p>
<p>“How about her father? What kind of a man is
he?” pursued Sim.</p>
<p>“George Clayton? He’s all right. None too smart,
but he gets along,” Reilly answered indifferently.
“Can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, you
know.”</p>
<p>But Sim was not satisfied. She wanted to find out
if Melissa’s father was as cruel as they imagined
him to be. The chief, however, in his good-natured
way, didn’t see what Sim was driving at and gave
her no satisfaction. Finally she questioned him no
further. They agreed on the weather and said
they’d see him soon again, just how soon, none of
them knew.</p>
<p>Then they drove back home and unloaded the
last of the groceries from the car just as the first
drops of rain showed on the windshield. Like all
bad news, it was better to have it started. The
sooner begun the sooner it would be over.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_105">[105]</div>
<h2 id="c13"><br />CHAPTER XIII
<br />The Tragic Messenger</h2>
<p>The wind increased in violence, and with the high
tide of the afternoon the surf pounded with wild
fury. At Terry’s home the rain lashed the windows,
and the awnings protested noisily against the gale.
Arden announced blandly that she no longer felt
“merry as a grig.”</p>
<p>“Let’s play rummy, the storm makes me restless,”
Sim suggested.</p>
<p>“If you feel restless now, I hate to think how
you’ll feel after three days of it,” Terry reminded
her.</p>
<p>“Three days!” Arden exclaimed. “I’ll have to
get out my tatting to keep me busy, I guess.”</p>
<p>“You can’t tat, silly,” Sim smiled. “Come on,
let’s play cards.”</p>
<p>Terry opened a painted card table, and they began
a half-hearted game of rummy. But Arden
couldn’t concentrate, so Terry and Sim told her to
“give up,” whereat they abandoned the cards.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_106">[106]</div>
<p>“Listen to that old ocean,” Arden remarked. “If
you were out there now, Sim, it would take more
than Melissa to pull you to safety.”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t she great?” Sim asked. “She knew just
how to go about it. I wasn’t scared, but I was beginning
to tire. Melissa took me out beyond the current,
and then we struck a stroke and got in easily.
Were you frightened?”</p>
<p>“We were a little,” Terry admitted. “We weren’t
sure whether you were all right. I was ready to come
out when Melissa dashed by us like a shot, and then
it seemed only a few seconds till you were back on
the beach.”</p>
<p>“She’s a marvelous swimmer,” Sim said admiringly.
“I wish she could lead a more pleasant life,
poor girl.”</p>
<p>“Chief Reilly didn’t seem to think her father was
so awful,” Terry remarked.</p>
<p>“Oh, Chief Reilly!” Arden exclaimed. “He
doesn’t seem to think much anyway.”</p>
<p>“He doesn’t have to think much. There’s nothing
for him to think about down here. I don’t know
what he’d do if he ever had a real case,” Terry went
on.</p>
<p>“The excitement would probably be too much for
him. I’ll bet he reads detective stories and has it all
planned out just the way he’d conduct a murder
inquiry,” Arden laughed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_107">[107]</div>
<p>“Yes,” Sim agreed. “He’d probably go measuring
footprints and looking for clues. Do you suppose
he’d use bloodhounds?”</p>
<p>“Why not?” Terry asked. “None of our well-known
detectives ever used bloodhounds, so it’s reasonable
to suppose that Detective Reilly would.”</p>
<p>“We’re not so bad ourselves at solving mysteries.
How about the Apple Orchard and Jockey Hollow?”
Arden reminded them.</p>
<p>“Of course—we’re really very good,” Terry
agreed facetiously. “I could do with a nice mystery.
This is ideal weather for it. Angry sea, howling
wind and dashing rain, big black clouds——”</p>
<p>“Do you ever have any murders or serious crimes
down here, Terry?” Sim asked suddenly.</p>
<p>“Yes—we had a very important one about three
years ago. Reilly saw a headless tiny body floating
in the bay,” Terry said dramatically.</p>
<p>“No, really?” Arden and Sim were all attention.</p>
<p>“Really,” answered Terry. “But when they picked
it up, it turned out to be a doll some youngster
dropped in the water.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Terry,” Sim said throwing a pillow at her.
“You had me all worked up.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_108">[108]</div>
<p>Terry laughed mischievously and threw the pillow
back. A well aimed throw from Arden caught
Terry squarely in the face with such force that the
chair in which she was sitting went over backwards
and Terry with it. In the scramble that followed
they did not hear the scratching at the door. It was
not until they took a little breathing spell that Arden
cautioned them to be quiet.</p>
<p>“Ssh-sh a minute,” she said. “Did you hear that
scratching?”</p>
<p>They listened. It came from the front door, and
this time a bark also could be heard.</p>
<p>“It’s a dog!” Sim exclaimed, and getting up from
the pile of cushions on the floor she went to open
the door.</p>
<p>“Why, it’s Tania!” Arden declared. “The poor
dog! Look at her!”</p>
<p>Poor dog indeed! The silky, white fur clung to
her thin frame, and a piece of rope trailed from her
collar. Like all dogs of her breed, she was thin when
in the best of condition, but now she looked worse
than that. She seemed really like a poor starved animal.</p>
<p>“She looks terrible,” Arden exclaimed, and disregarding
the wet fur she began to stroke the regally
pointed head.</p>
<p>“She’s hungry. Look how thin she is. Let’s give
her something to eat,” Terry suggested, already
starting toward the kitchen.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_109">[109]</div>
<p>Tania was extremely grateful for the food Terry
put before her and ate ravenously, while the girls
murmured soothingly to the grateful dog.</p>
<p>“But how strange that she should get like this,”
Terry reminded them. “Dimitri always takes such
good care of her.”</p>
<p>“And that old rope, the end looks frayed off. Do
you suppose——” Arden looked at her chums with
terror in her eyes. This, coming directly after their
talk, joking as it was, about murders, gave them all
a shocked, sudden pause. It seemed horrible even to
imagine that Dimitri——</p>
<p>“Oh, Arden! How awful! We haven’t seen Dimitri
for a week. Do you think——” Terry was too
frightened to put intelligible questions.</p>
<p>Arden nodded her head solemnly. “I’m afraid
so,” she said in a quiet voice. “Something must have
happened on board the <i>Merry Jane</i>.”</p>
<p>For the first time the girls realized how interested
they had become in Dimitri. His charming
manners, his accent, his appearance, and the almost
mysterious aloofness he maintained, all went to
make him most attractive. Now that they feared
foul play might have overtaken him, it was dismaying
even to guess what had happened on the lonely
houseboat.</p>
<p>But poor mute Tania could not tell them her
story.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_110">[110]</div>
<h2 id="c14"><br />CHAPTER XIV
<br />Missing at Marshlands</h2>
<p>“Oh, Tania!” Sim exclaimed, taking the intelligent
head in her hands. “What happened?”</p>
<p>But the dog only wagged a bedraggled tail and
blinked her eyes with pleasure.</p>
<p>“We must go over at once and see,” Arden decided.
“We’ll have to walk, too. We couldn’t row in
this wind.”</p>
<p>Quickly they got into old coats and heavy shoes,
pulled soft hats well down, and started for the
<i>Merry Jane</i>.</p>
<p>Outside the little cottage the wind tore at them
fiercely, and the blown sand mingled with rain stung
their legs and faces. Carried through the air by the
gale, flakes of foam from the ocean were borne far
up the beach like a strange summer snowstorm.</p>
<p>Tania slunk along behind them as they bent to
the wind, clearly hating to be out in such nasty
weather when she apparently had hoped to remain
in the warm dryness of “Buckingham Palace.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_111">[111]</div>
<p>“Isn’t this wild?” Sim said holding her coat close
to her. “I do hope nothing serious has happened.”</p>
<p>“We all do,” Arden answered. “Terry, can you
find your way through the marsh?”</p>
<p>“I think we’d better follow the shore line of the
bay. It will be safer,” Terry decided. “There isn’t
much shore left now the water has blown in so far,
we’ll have to walk single file.”</p>
<p>Terry took the lead, followed by Arden and Sim,
with Tania picking her way along daintily after
them.</p>
<p>They made good time, for the wind was at their
backs and served to push them forward. Just ahead,
its sides slapped by the lapping waves, they could
see the old houseboat looming up darkly in the rain.</p>
<p>Silently they went around to the land side, where
the wooden steps led to the narrow promenade that
ran completely around the boat.</p>
<p>There on the rain-swept deck they hesitated. Not
a sound, except the noise of the storm, reached them.
They were a little afraid, yet they knew they must
go in.</p>
<p>Arden went forward, found the door unlocked,
and pushed it open. Her companions followed her,
and cautiously they entered the picturesque main
room. It was just as they had last seen it. The mysterious
painting covered on the easel, the jars of
paint brushes on the table, and the odds and ends
Dimitri had left lying about, were all, apparently,
untouched. But the artist himself was not there.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_112">[112]</div>
<p>Terry pushed aside the faded curtains that kept
the little kitchen separate from the rest of the boat.</p>
<p>“He’s not here,” she said simply.</p>
<p>“From the looks of this place he hasn’t been here
for quite a while,” Sim amended. “See the grease
on that pan.”</p>
<p>Arden, however, made a more important discovery.
She pointed to a little wall cupboard. The door
hung crazily on its hinges, disclosing the empty
space within.</p>
<p>“Look,” she exclaimed. “That door has been
broken open. I’ll bet that’s where Dimitri kept the
snuffbox!” The words came so suddenly, the girls
gasped involuntarily.</p>
<p>“I believe you’re right, Arden,” Terry said
quickly. “Then either Dimitri left and took the box
with him, or somebody broke in and stole it. But if
Dimitri took the box he wouldn’t have had to break
the cupboard open. He had a key. Some thief has
been here.”</p>
<p>“If that happened—where is Dimitri?” Sim asked
excitedly.</p>
<p>“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” Arden declared.
“We’ll have to look very carefully in case
there are any clues about. Come on.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_113">[113]</div>
<p>Systematically they went over the old boat, but
after a careful search they had learned no more.
When they completed their tour, they assembled
again in the main room.</p>
<p>There the covered canvas loomed up as large, in
their disturbed imaginings, as a forbidding specter.
Sim touched a corner of the cloth.</p>
<p>“Don’t, Sim,” Arden stopped her.</p>
<p>“Perhaps we ought to,” Sim suggested. But Arden
shook her head. They should not raise the cloth.</p>
<p>In their search they had found nothing significant
except the place where Tania had been tied up; it
was outside, near the stern of the boat. There was
no dust, of course, to tell them how long the place
had been unoccupied, but an open window through
which the rain had come, soaking cushions and the
floor, gave evidence that at least no one had been
there since the storm had begun. Or, if they had,
they had not troubled to close the window.</p>
<p>“These brushes are stiff with paint,” Terry remarked,
picking up a long-handled one that lay near
a color-filled palette. “And the paint on the palette
is hard too,” she continued. “That’s unusual; all the
other brushes are soaking in turpentine, and when
we were here before, Dimitri had just cleaned his
palette.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_114">[114]</div>
<p>“He must have left suddenly, then,” Arden
guessed. “He was very neat in his painting. It looks
pretty serious to me,” she concluded.</p>
<p>Terry shook out her damp coat. They were all
quite wet, but the day, despite the storm, was warm,
and they had given no thought to themselves since
they left home. Following Terry’s example, the
others now shook their coats.</p>
<p>Tania curled up in a dry corner and prepared to
sleep. The adventure was not to her liking; besides,
though the girls did not know it, she had been over
the boat countless numbers of times looking for her
master. It was not until hunger had driven her that
she left her home and sought out her friends. Instinctively
she went to them—trusted them.</p>
<p>Sim, still standing by the covered picture, took
hold again of the cloth. Some power she could not
resist made her pull it off before Arden had time to
stop her.</p>
<p>“Oh, Sim!” Arden exclaimed reproachfully. “I
asked——”</p>
<p>A change came over Arden’s expressive face. Her
blue eyes clouded with tears. Surprised and startled,
the three girls stood looking at the canvas, almost
unable to believe their own eyes at what was revealed
to them.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_115">[115]</div>
<h2 id="c15"><br />CHAPTER XV
<br />Downhearted; Not Discouraged</h2>
<p>Spellbound they gazed at the revelation.</p>
<p>It was a large picture, almost finished, and its
bold strokes had been laid on with a sureness that
told of the joy the artist had put into his work.</p>
<p>But the subject was what held them so amazed.
For there, instead of the usual landscape, was a portrait
of Arden, sitting on a mound of warm-colored
sand with Tania at her feet. One slim hand was almost
buried in the white fur. The sky back of her
hinted at an approaching storm, and a portion of
sea showed the ocean that peculiar color which
comes just before a change. Arden in the picture
was gazing wistfully out to sea, her eyes dreamy yet
questioning, as though she were wondering what
life held in store for her.</p>
<p>“Oh, Arden,” gasped Sim, the first to speak.
“How lovely!”</p>
<p>“And to think we never knew or even guessed,”
Terry added. “He must be in love with you,” she
finished softly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_116">[116]</div>
<p>“Don’t be silly, Terry,” Arden scolded, her face
crimson with blushes. “He just happened to use my
face. It doesn’t look much like me, anyway. I’m not
that pretty.”</p>
<p>“It looks exactly like you,” Sim insisted. “There’s
no use being falsely modest about such things. You
know you’re pretty.”</p>
<p>“Oh, stop!” Arden begged, and her friends saw
that her eyes were filled with tears. “He’s gone
now, and whatever happened to him, I’m afraid to
guess. But I know one thing. He never would have
gone away without leaving some word unless he was
taken against his will.”</p>
<p>“What shall we do?” Sim asked, coming as usual
straight to the heart of the matter and for the moment
disregarding the portrait.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Arden replied helplessly. For a
time the girls listened while the storm howled outside
and the waves slapped harder against the fat
sides of the <i>Merry Jane</i>.</p>
<p>“We can’t stay here very much longer,” Terry
reminded them. “The tide is coming in, and there
won’t be any place left to walk on back home.”</p>
<p>Arden nodded grimly; then, without a word of
explanation, she went out the door and back to the
stern of the houseboat. She returned as quickly as
she had gone.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_117">[117]</div>
<p>“I just wanted to see,” she explained, “if Dimitri’s
rowboat was still tied up. It is, and his old car
is there, too.”</p>
<p>“Then, of course, wherever he went or was taken,
he didn’t go in his own boat or car,” Terry reasoned.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what we can do,” Arden said
again. “But I think we should wait a little while before
we spread an alarm. After all, he may have
stayed in town because of the storm.”</p>
<p>“Of course. Why didn’t we think of that before?”
Sim agreed, sighing with relief. “We’d better
lock Tania in and get back ourselves. Then we
can drive to town and look around for him there.”</p>
<p>They were relieved at having something definite
to do, some real plan to work upon. Terry with difficulty
closed the open window. Arden coaxed Tania
out to the kitchen and left water for her to drink,
besides two dog biscuits she found in a box. Sim
carefully covered the picture again, still conscious
of the thrilling surprise it had given them.</p>
<p>Finding they could not lock the door from the
outside, they pulled it shut and, after one more look
around the old boat, they wrapped their coats
tightly about them and set out for “Buckingham
Palace.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_118">[118]</div>
<p>The discovery of Arden’s portrait under such almost
terrifying conditions left the little group
frankly bewildered.</p>
<p>“How could he have drawn so well from memory?”
Arden wondered.</p>
<p>“What will Arden say or do about it?” Sim reflected.</p>
<p>“Anyhow,” Terry was deciding, “it’s a perfectly
swell picture.”</p>
<p>Then, as if voicing the unspoken words of her
companions, Arden said:</p>
<p>“Please don’t let’s say anything about—the picture—now.”</p>
<p>“All right,” replied her companions, and they
certainly meant it would be “all right” to keep their
newest secret.</p>
<p>“I can’t understand it,” Arden remarked as they
plodded along. “Especially about Tania. He <i>was</i> so
fond of her.”</p>
<p>“<i>Was?</i> Oh, Arden!” Sim wailed at the slip Arden
had made.</p>
<p>“Everything will be all right. I’m sure there is
some simple explanation,” Terry said soothingly.</p>
<p>“I hope so,” Sim murmured, not quite so sure.</p>
<p>They could still hear Tania howling mournfully
at being left alone, but Arden insisted they should
not go back, for Tania was safe, she declared. Soon
the dog’s howls could be heard no longer, with the
noise of the wind and the endless slashing of the
breakers on the shore.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_119">[119]</div>
<p>The tide had risen just as Terry said it would,
and in some places the girls had to wade in water
up to their knees as they trudged along. When at
last they reached Terry’s house they were indeed a
woebegone little band, and there was no use denying
it.</p>
<p>Mrs. Landry was shocked when she saw them
and sent them to change into dry things at once.
After which they gathered in the living room and
told Terry’s mother all about their disheartening
adventure, not, however, mentioning the surprise
portrait.</p>
<p>“And, Mother,” Terry pleaded, “can’t we go to
town at once to see if he has been there?”</p>
<p>“Terry, dear, you always rush so,” Mrs. Landry
reminded her. “Don’t you think the weather is too
bad to go all that way now? Why not wait——”</p>
<p>“We’ll be all right,” Terry interrupted. “I’m sure
none of us could sleep a wink if we didn’t at least
do everything possible to find out what has happened
to Dimitri.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_120">[120]</div>
<p>“Well——” Mrs. Landry was weakening. “If
you dress warmly and promise to be back before
dark, I guess you may go. But drive carefully, and
don’t do anything foolish.” The vague warning
meant more than the words which conveyed it.</p>
<p>They were not long in getting ready after receiving
that permission. In a surprisingly short time the
little car was bouncing up the road with the three
girls huddled together in it bound for the village.</p>
<p>“Where shall we go first?” asked Sim as they
neared town.</p>
<p>“We can get some gas and sort of ask Reilly,”
Terry suggested. “He’s always friendly and sees
everything.”</p>
<p>“Of course, that’s what we’ll do first,” Arden
agreed.</p>
<p>But when they had jokingly asked the Chief how
his tenant was getting along, he replied crisply:</p>
<p>“I should think <i>you’d</i> know about that. I haven’t
seen him in more’n a week. Takes more’n two cats
t’ make a coop of chickens,” he added. Mr. Reilly’s
proverbs were sometimes queer. “Nope, ain’t seen
him.”</p>
<p>“You haven’t!” Terry droned.</p>
<p>More than a week! Disheartened, they tried to
smile at the obliging Reilly, but the attempt was by
no means a success.</p>
<p>He looked after them quizzically as they left.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_121">[121]</div>
<p>In the little drug store where they bought postal
cards and stamps they did not need nor even want,
they asked the girl clerk if she had seen “the artist”
lately.</p>
<p>She gave them a silly grin and shook her head.</p>
<p>“Not him. He only came in here once for some
stamps, weeks ago, but not since. Queer duck.
Friend of yours?”</p>
<p>“Sort of,” Arden replied indifferently, and they
left the store with their heads up but their spirits
down.</p>
<p>“Well, that exhausts the village, except for the
food store. We can buy some oranges and ask Mr.
Gushweller,” Terry suggested.</p>
<p>The combination grocery and butcher store was
without customers when the girls entered, and the
beaming owner, Mr. Gushweller, came forward
rubbing his hands and remarking how glad he was
to see them.</p>
<p>Arden looked expertly at the oranges, critically
“weighing” them in her hand. How should they ask
about Dimitri without exciting Mr. Gushweller’s
curiosity?</p>
<p>But Sim saved the day. “Say, Mr. Gushweller,”
she said brightly, “what kind of meat is good for a
dog—that Russian wolfhound, you know? The one
that artist owns? He asked if we’d pick up something
for her.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_122">[122]</div>
<p>“Wall, he gen’ally gits these.” Gushweller indicated
a prepared dog food in cans. “I thought it was
about time he got a new supply. He ain’t bought
none for a couple weeks now.”</p>
<p>“I’ll take three cans,” Sim replied automatically,
while one half of her brain registered the disappointing
fact that Dimitri hadn’t been in that store
either.</p>
<p>Loaded again with unwanted stuff, although
Tania could use the dog food, they were a serious
threesome as they drove homeward in the early evening.
The storm continued violently to tear things
up, and all were thinking the same thing. Dimitri
hadn’t been to town even to get food for Tania.
Where was he in this awful storm?</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_123">[123]</div>
<h2 id="c16"><br />CHAPTER XVI
<br />That Dark Woman</h2>
<p>“If he had taken his car, or even the boat, it
wouldn’t seem so—so ominous,” Arden reasoned as
they drove homeward. “But to find them both there,
and Tania practically starving. Well——”</p>
<p>“That broken cupboard, too,” Sim said. “I feel
sure that’s where he used to keep the snuffbox. Do
you remember the day we came to tea? The sound
of a small door and a key in the lock?”</p>
<p>“It certainly looked as though it had been forced
open,” Terry replied.</p>
<p>“I hate to tell Chief Reilly. I’m afraid he’ll get
things all mixed up. Let’s wait a little longer, and
we’ll do whatever your mother advises,” Arden
said, and Terry agreed, silently nodding her head.</p>
<p>The storm was surely now at its height. In some
parts of the road, where there was not much distance
to the ocean, the waves had been blown in so
that a curved white line of foam was left on the
ground almost under the wheels of the car. The
sand came in sheets, blowing and sticking on the wet
windshield, making the driving difficult indeed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_124">[124]</div>
<p>Mrs. Landry did not hide her relief when they
put the car in the garage and came tramping into
the house.</p>
<p>“Did you find him?” she asked brightly, and then
at once knew they had not, for they looked at her
hopelessly and shook their heads.</p>
<p>“No one has seen him for days,” Terry said
briefly.</p>
<p>“He didn’t even buy food for Tania,” added
Arden. “Do you suppose something terrible has happened
to him? That someone knew he had that
snuffbox and——”</p>
<p>“I don’t believe so,” Mrs. Landry soothed, talking
slowly and softly, as one speaks to a frightened
child. “I’m sure you will hear good news in the
morning. Come, get your damp things off and see
how much better you’ll feel after you’ve had some
of Ida’s chicken pie.”</p>
<p>Later, when they ate the pie and apparently enjoyed
it, wise Mrs. Landry kept the conversational
ball rolling as well as she could, but it was not easy.
There was so much worry in their serious young
faces that smiles were few and far between among
the girls.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_125">[125]</div>
<p>They retired early, tired from their long walk
through the rain and the rough drive to the village
and back. But healthy bodies make healthy minds,
and next morning they were surprised, and a little
ashamed, at having slept so well; in fact, at having
overslept so well.</p>
<p>“We must go and feed Tania,” Arden decided
after breakfast. “We’ll look more carefully this
time for some clues and hope for the best.”</p>
<p>Tania was overjoyed to see them and ate greedily
of the food Sim gave her from one of the cans she
had bought the day before.</p>
<p>“Was that chair like that yesterday?” Terry
asked indicating an overturned rocker.</p>
<p>“I don’t remember,” Sim answered. “I was so excited.”</p>
<p>“I don’t, either, but Tania might have done it,”
Arden suggested.</p>
<p>“Then it doesn’t indicate a struggle or anything,”
Terry remarked. “I guess it wasn’t important, anyway.”</p>
<p>“Tania will be safer here than anywhere else,
and she hates the rain so,” Sim said in fixing little
things for the lonely dog’s comfort.</p>
<p>They left the <i>Merry Jane</i> again, much the same
as they had found her, and returned to “Buckingham
Palace,” finally deciding to tell Chief Reilly if
they did not hear from Dimitri by noon.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_126">[126]</div>
<p>They were about to drive to town to deliver their
doleful message when the sound of a car coming
down the muddy road filled them with sudden hope.</p>
<p>Surely this was Dimitri coming back safe and
sound! If only it could be——</p>
<p>“Oh, gosh!” Sim exclaimed. “I’m glad he’s back!
I was so worried.”</p>
<p>“Me, too!” said Terry ungrammatically.</p>
<p>They waited at the back gate and watched the
splashing approach of the car. Mud-stained as it
was, they could still distinguish the color. A green
roadster!</p>
<p>It came to a sudden stop with screeching of
brakes, and the door, with grimy side curtains
attached, was swung open.</p>
<p>Then they could see that the dark Olga was behind
the wheel, hesitating before putting a black
satin shoe on the muddy ground as she prepared to
step out.</p>
<p>She smiled as she saw the three girls in a row
looking at her in dismay.</p>
<p>“A reception committee. Yes?” she asked.
“Good-morning! Here I am again, you see.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_127">[127]</div>
<p>“Good-morning,” Arden replied mechanically,
trying to look past the woman into the car. Woefully
there came to her the realization that it contained
no one but Olga. There was no sign of
Dimitri.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Arden feared that Sim or Terry might
give away their discovery about Dimitri’s absence
before she had a chance to question the woman and
learn if Olga knew of his disappearance.</p>
<p>But Sim and Terry acted as if struck dumb. They
had been so sure that their artist friend would be in
the car. Surely, Arden thought, Olga could see surprise
and dismay in their faces. Perhaps she did not
notice, or perhaps she was only concerned with herself,
for when she spoke again she asked if they
could do her the very great favor of taking her over
to the <i>Merry Jane</i>.</p>
<p>“Why, I guess——” began Arden and then decided
on a bold question. “But why didn’t you take
the road from the village? You must have come
past it as you drove out.”</p>
<p>“A road from the village!” Olga repeated. “I
thought there was no way except to go by boat from
here.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes,” Terry explained. “There is a way.
This road you are on now branches off farther back
and goes through the marsh, right to the houseboat.
Of course, it is not much of a road, but it is
wide enough for one car.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_128">[128]</div>
<p>“Really?” The dark woman raised black, curved
brows. “I did not mean to be such a great trouble.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Arden exclaimed quickly.
“If the bay were not so rough, we would be glad
to take you. But the storm——” It would not do to
make Olga antagonistic. They could learn nothing
then.</p>
<p>“I guess you will have to drive——” began Sim
but a look from Arden stopped her from continuing.</p>
<p>“And if I meet Dimitri coming out in his handsome
car, we will be like two goats on the bridge.
Yes?” Olga smiled as she still sat in the auto, reluctant
to put her dainty feet on the wet ground.</p>
<p>“But you won’t meet him,” Terry said quickly.
“He’s not there!” She waited to see what effect this
statement would have on the mysterious woman.</p>
<p>“No? He often goes away, sketching. He is very
strong. A sea such as this wild one would delight
him. However, I will go over and wait for him.”
Olga decided and drew her slim legs back into the
car as she prepared to drive away.</p>
<p>“But he won’t come back; at least, we don’t think
he will. He’s been gone for days without taking the
car or his skiff, and the houseboat was not even
locked,” Arden stated and watched the woman
closely for her reaction to that statement.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_129">[129]</div>
<p>“What do you mean?” Olga asked shrilly and
jumped quickly out of the car to stand squarely in
front of Arden. She looked straight into Arden’s
eyes and repeated her question. “What do you
mean? What are you trying to tell me?”</p>
<p>“Dimitri’s gone,” said Arden simply.</p>
<p>“Gone?” Olga asked. “Come, we must go over
at once! There is something I must find out!”</p>
<p>And then the excitement began all over again.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_130">[130]</div>
<h2 id="c17"><br />CHAPTER XVII
<br />Olga Makes Light of It</h2>
<p>“To find out something,” was what Olga had said,
her dark eyes flashing. The girls, too, wanted to find
things out. Did Olga know about the missing snuffbox,
and did she also know, or suspect, where
Dimitri might be?</p>
<p>They eagerly accepted the invitation to get into
the car. Olga drove rapidly, scorning ruts and
bumps. Once she spoke questioningly to Arden, who
was in the front seat with her.</p>
<p>“My little friend, Melissa? Did she enjoy her
ride?”</p>
<p>“Very much,” replied Arden. “But she got into
trouble over it. Her father——”</p>
<p>“Ah, yes, she told me of him. Have you seen her
recently, then?”</p>
<p>“Not for quite a few days,” Arden answered, and
then she remembered, with a start, that no one had
seen Melissa or George Clayton for—she could not
recall how long. Three or four days, at least.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_131">[131]</div>
<p>“The dog!” Olga exclaimed suddenly. “Is she
still on the boat? She cannot bear me. I attempted
to discipline her once, and ever since that I cannot
go near her. She never forgets.”</p>
<p>“She’s still there, but I guess we can tie her up
before you go in,” Arden said, wondering how they
were going to do it.</p>
<p>Then Olga drove without talking further. When
they got to the end of the narrow road leading to
the houseboat the three girls sprang out and, going
on board, coaxed Tania to the stern of the craft,
where they tied her securely. They then called down
that it was safe for Olga to come aboard.</p>
<p>“Watch her carefully,” Arden cautioned Terry
and Sim, indicating Olga. “Notice just what she
does.”</p>
<p>Terry and Sim agreed silently as Olga appeared
at the steps. Tania barked furiously at the sight of
her and strained to get loose. Olga, casting the merest
glance in the direction of the animal, at once
went inside the houseboat. The three girls followed
close behind her. She did not hesitate in the living
room. But, walking briskly, pushed aside the curtains
and stopped short as the broken cupboard
caught her eye. The mysterious covered canvas
might not have been there for all the notice she
gave it.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_132">[132]</div>
<p>“Who did that?” she asked, angrily turning to
the girls. “Who? Tell me at once!”</p>
<p>“We found it that way,” Arden answered.
“What’s the matter?”</p>
<p>“Matter?” Olga repeated. “Did you not know,
then, that Dimitri had here a gold box worth a fortune?
Come! I see by your faces you did know.
This is where he kept it. I told him it was foolish.
After all, one can get around Tania with a piece
of raw beef. Yes!”</p>
<p>She was quite beside herself with rage. Her dark
eyes flashed, and she bit her lips impatiently. Then,
apparently realizing how odd all this must seem to
the girls and shrugging her shoulders, she attempted
to make light of the incident. With another shrug
of her expressive shoulders, she said:</p>
<p>“But of course he has removed his precious box
with him. He can take care of himself, that one.
Ha! Yes! There is no use wasting time here. I must
get back to New York—quickly!”</p>
<p>Olga fumbled in her bag and pulled out a gaudy
compact. At the same time a paper fell but, though
she did not notice it, none of the girls attempted to
pick it up. The whole affair seemed to rob them of
their natural intelligence. Olga’s personality was so
overpowering.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_133">[133]</div>
<p>“But,” Arden began, “why should he break open
the cupboard? Surely he had a key.”</p>
<p>“I have known him to lose things more important
than keys. Don’t worry your pretty heads over it,
Dimitri is not harmed, I am sure of it.” Olga used
her compact vigorously. All that she did was vigorous.</p>
<p>“And Tania,” Sim reminded her. “He left nothing
for her to eat.”</p>
<p>“About that I know nothing. Oh, you dear, foolish
children! What do you think has happened?
Murder? Abduction? Come, I am going back!”
Olga swept out of the small space. She had succeeded
in making the girls feel very young and
rather silly. They followed her almost against their
wills, and she drove them back to the cottage, where
she stopped and, smiling brightly, said:</p>
<p>“Please don’t distress yourselves. I tell you,
Dimitri is very capable. You believe me—yes?”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” Arden faltered.</p>
<p>“Oh, and if you see my little friend Melissa, tell
her I have been here, will you?”</p>
<p>The girls nodded dumbly, and Olga drove off up
the muddy road, splashing the brown water widely
out from beneath the wheels.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_134">[134]</div>
<p>There was a temporary lull in the storm, a sort
of breathing spell. The rain had ceased, and the
wind was less. The surf, though, was heavier than
ever, booming on and tearing at the beach.</p>
<p>Arden stood in a little pool of rain water watching
the car fade from sight. She suddenly moved
aside as the water soaked through her shoes and
wet her feet.</p>
<p>“What next?” she asked of no one in particular.
“She is the queerest person I ever saw.”</p>
<p>“Do you think she really was disturbed about
Dimitri and just pretended she wasn’t?” Sim inquired.</p>
<p>“If you ask me,” Terry began, “she doesn’t care
a snap about Dimitri. But she did seem mad about
the box and the broken cupboard.”</p>
<p>“That’s just what I thought,” agreed Arden. “I
think she was surprised to find it gone, and maybe
I’m crazy, too, but she seemed to expect that, somehow.”</p>
<p>“Why should we tell Melissa we saw her?” Terry
reflected. “Anyway, we haven’t seen Melissa for
days, and that’s odd, too.”</p>
<p>“That’s just Olga’s manner: playing Lady Bountiful
to the poor native child,” Sim sneered. “What
does she know about Melissa, anyway?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_135">[135]</div>
<p>“What does she know about this whole business?”
Arden said firmly. “I’m for telling Chief Reilly.
Then, if anything should be wrong, our consciences
would be clear. What do you say?”</p>
<p>“I think you’re right, Arden!” Terry exclaimed.
“There’s more to this than we realize. Wait till I
tell Mother where we’re going.”</p>
<p>Terry ran into the house and was out again almost
at once.</p>
<p>Arden backed the car from the garage, Sim shut
the doors after her, and the three were ready for
the drive to the village.</p>
<p>“Let’s go!” called Terry hopping into the moving
car. “Hurry, Arden! It’s beginning to rain
again.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_136">[136]</div>
<h2 id="c18"><br />CHAPTER XVIII
<br />Reilly on the Case</h2>
<p>The rain was coming down in torrents by the time
the village was reached, and, going at once to
Reilly’s garage, the girls found him seated in his
narrow little office reading a newspaper.</p>
<p>He smiled jovially as she saw them, his little blue
eyes almost hidden behind many wrinkles.</p>
<p>“Afternoon, ladies!” he exclaimed. “How’s this
for weather? A cat can look at a king.”</p>
<p>But Arden had no time for polite preliminaries.</p>
<p>“Mr. Reilly,” she began, “we have something
very important to tell you.”</p>
<p>“Have you, now? What’s happened? Rain leakin’
through into your dinin’ room table? It never pours
but the salt gets damp.”</p>
<p>“Please, I’m serious,” Arden said firmly, and
taking a deep breath she announced:</p>
<p>“Dimitri Uzlov has disappeared!”</p>
<p>“Disappeared! What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“He’s been gone from the houseboat for days,
and nobody has heard from him. You said, yourself,
you hadn’t seen him lately. Remember?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_137">[137]</div>
<p>“Yes, I remember,” agreed the chief. “But what
makes you think he’s disappeared?”</p>
<p>“His dog came over to our house, starving, with
a piece of frayed rope on her collar,” Terry burst
out.</p>
<p>“The door of the houseboat was open, and the
rain was pouring in,” volunteered Sim.</p>
<p>“Both his car and rowboat are there, and there’s
a cupboard broken open on the houseboat,” Arden
added excitedly.</p>
<p>“But perhaps he’s just gone for a day or two,”
suggested the chief, obviously not wanting to start
on a “case” in the riotous weather.</p>
<p>“Oh, you must believe us!” Arden exclaimed. “It
takes more than a day or two to starve a big dog.
And we inquired all around the village. No one has
seen Mr. Uzlov.”</p>
<p>“Have you told anyone else about this?” Reilly
asked professionally. “How many people know he’s
gone?”</p>
<p>“Just us and my mother and that woman who
came to see him,” Terry answered.</p>
<p>“Oh, Terry!” Arden exclaimed. “And we don’t
even know her last name or her license number. We
let her go away without asking.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_138">[138]</div>
<p>“How stupid! That’s just what we did, and I’m
sure she knew more than she let on,” Sim said in
dismay.</p>
<p>“Mr. Reilly,” Arden pleaded, “won’t you come
with us to the <i>Merry Jane</i>? We’ll feel better if you
take a look around, because we’d never forgive ourselves
if anything was wrong.”</p>
<p>“Why—” Reilly rubbed his chin thoughtfully—“yes,
I’ll come. Might as well go right now. Just in
case——”</p>
<p>“Good! You follow us in your car, as we won’t
be coming back this way again,” Arden decided as
Chief Reilly slipped into his warm uniform coat
whereon a large shiny badge was prominently displayed.</p>
<p>He followed them back along the road in his
ancient flivver, his fat cheeks shaking as he bounced
over the ruts and puddles.</p>
<p>He slung one plump leg over the door without
opening it and slid, rather than climbed, out. The
girls waited impatiently as he stood surveying the
lonely stretch of Marshlands from all angles.</p>
<p>Terry fidgeted. “What does he think he’s going
to see, looking around like this? White pebbles as in
the fairy tale?” she hissed.</p>
<p>“Shsh-h! he’ll hear you,” Arden cautioned.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_139">[139]</div>
<p>Chief Reilly, having had his look around,
mounted the wooden steps at the rear side of the
houseboat and asked, in his most businesslike manner:</p>
<p>“Everything just as you found it last?”</p>
<p>“Everything; except for the closed window,”
Arden replied.</p>
<p>Tania, delighted at seeing her friends again,
“woofed” happily, and apparently Chief Reilly was
her friend, too, for she allowed him to rub her silky
ears.</p>
<p>“We came over here the day Tania ran to us,
begging for food. And we found the place deserted
and this cupboard broken open,” said Arden.</p>
<p>“Huhm-um,” Reilly grunted, peering into the
small compartment with its shattered door.</p>
<p>“These paint brushes,” Sim said, showing him
one, “were never left by Mr. Dimitri to harden up
like this. They were scattered about when we first
came over.”</p>
<p>“That so?” the chief asked. “I wouldn’t know
about that. I’m no painter.”</p>
<p>“There’s something else that’s very odd,” Arden
stated. “Dimitri Uzlov had in his possession a very
valuable gold box. Besides ourselves, we don’t know
just how many people knew about it, but we think
the woman Olga did. Anyway, it’s gone, too.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_140">[140]</div>
<p>Reilly raised his eyebrows. The case was beginning
to be interesting. What he had imagined to be
the silly idea of excitable “summer folks” seemed
now to have something to it after all.</p>
<p>“Did this artist have many visitors?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Two that we know about,” replied Terry.</p>
<p>“The woman Olga, and a man who rowed over
here in our boat a few nights ago. He came back
toward morning,” said Sim.</p>
<p>“The woman came first and asked the way over
here. Terry rowed her over. Dimitri and she seemed
to be very angry about something. We rowed her
back again, and she took Melissa Clayton for a ride
in her car, a green sport roadster,” supplied Arden.</p>
<p>“Funny I never saw it go through town,” Reilly
remarked at this point. “But what you don’t know
can’t set the river on fire.” He grinned.</p>
<p>“It’s more than that,” Terry agreed. “That
woman didn’t seem to want to be seen in town at
all.”</p>
<p>“And something very queer about the whole
thing,” Sim interrupted, “is where has Melissa been
all this while? She usually hangs around our house.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I wouldn’t consider that,” Reilly suggested.
“This bad weather probably accounts for it. She’s
home.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_141">[141]</div>
<p>“Well, then, after that,” Arden went on with her
story of events, “a man, dark, tall, and somewhat
like Dimitri, drove up one night and he, too, asked
the way to the <i>Merry Jane</i>. He wouldn’t let us row
him over. He was very polite about it, and he took
our boat. Toward morning I saw him drive away
in his car that he had left parked at Terry’s house,
and—and—” Arden faltered as she realized another
surprising fact—“that’s the last time we
heard from Dimitri!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_142">[142]</div>
<h2 id="c19"><br />CHAPTER XIX
<br />Tania Howls</h2>
<p>This startling announcement held them all speechless.
They had completely overlooked its significance.
And yet it was so obvious. The dark stranger
had evidently come over to the houseboat that
night and—— Surely he was responsible for Dimitri’s
disappearance.</p>
<p>Terry wandered over to the combination bed and
couch and sank down upon it. She looked in a bewildered
fashion at the floor and almost immediately
was galvanized into action. At her feet lay a
white paper; something they had not noticed before.
She snatched it up and spread it out on her
knee. It was part of an envelope torn partly across
and lengthwise. Written on it in ordinary blue ink
was this:</p>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t3"><i>Ser</i></p>
<p class="t4"><i>Ninth S</i></p>
<p class="t5"><i>New Y</i></p>
</div>
<p>“Look!” excitedly exclaimed Terry. “Here’s part
of an address!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_143">[143]</div>
<p>They all crowded close to see, and Chief Reilly,
as befitted one in his station, held out his hand for
the paper. Terry meekly gave it to him.</p>
<p>“You’re right!” he exclaimed and turned the
paper over. Then, as the surprised girls watched, he
drew out from the inside of the envelope a second
small piece of paper. “This seems to be some kind
of a map,” he announced, turning it around in an
effort to decide which was the top.</p>
<p>“Let’s see!” Arden asked. The chief gave it to
her. “It is a map!” she agreed, “and it shows the
road from the city and the branch one to the village.
See, it has part of the word Oceanedge.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps we can find the rest of it,” Sim suggested.
But a most careful search failed to reveal
more of the paper.</p>
<p>“Olga dropped that!” Arden announced suddenly.
“I remember seeing it fall from her bag, but
I was too stupid to do anything about it.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, Arden,” Terry said. “If you had noticed
it and called it to her attention, she would have
picked it up again. As it is now, we’re reasonably
sure she knew the way to the <i>Merry Jane</i> all the
while, though she tried to make us believe she
didn’t.”</p>
<p>“And to think we let her go without even finding
out her name or who she was,” Sim moaned.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_144">[144]</div>
<p>“Now I’m sure there’s something queer about
Dimitri being away,” Arden said convincingly.
“Why should Olga pretend to be ignorant about the
road? Why didn’t she worry about Dimitri? How
did she know about the snuffbox? She went straight
to the cupboard as if to get it.”</p>
<p>“You girls may have stumbled on something at
that!” the chief exclaimed with a faint note of admiration
in his voice. “Yes, indeed!”</p>
<p>They stood in the untidy living room wondering
what might be the solution to all this mystery.
Tania rubbed against Sim’s slim legs. The girl gently
pulled the silky ears, something forming in her
mind.</p>
<p>“I’ve got an idea!” Sim cried out. “Perhaps
Tania could trace Dimitri if she had something of
his to sniff at. After all, she’s a wolfhound, and the
hound part of her name must mean that she can
trace missing persons.”</p>
<p>“We can try,” Arden admitted. Somehow, despite
the chief’s presence, the girls regarded the “case”
as their own and did not dream of consulting him
on matters such as this one.</p>
<p>Momentarily the discovery of the piece of letter
and the map was forgotten in the excitement of the
new suggestion. Sim found a battered old felt hat
and held it before Tania’s nose.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_145">[145]</div>
<p>The dog sniffed at it disdainfully and then sat
back on her haunches looking at Sim.</p>
<p>“Go find him!” Sim urged. “Find Dimitri!”</p>
<p>The tone of her voice may have done it, or else it
was a game of dog and played before, for she
sprang up again and dashed toward the door. Standing
on her hind legs and pushing with her forepaws,
she opened it, for it was not fully latched.</p>
<p>Tania galloped down to the water edge and ran
back and forth excitedly, her nose to the ground.
The cat-tails in the marsh bent before the strong
wind, which whistled eerily through the tall sedge
grass. As is usual with nor’easters, the rain had
temporarily ceased again, and the afternoon sky
seemed a little brighter. Tania turned to look questioningly
at the girls as she raced back and forth
along the little strip of ground. At last she stopped
and, sitting down, facing the storm-swept bay, she
howled mournfully.</p>
<p>“Tania!” Arden called. The dog came slowly to
her, tail between her legs, a picture of despair.</p>
<p>“What does that mean?” Terry asked of Reilly.
She did not dare to interpret the performance for
herself. “Do you think he may have—drowned?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_146">[146]</div>
<p>“Naw,” Rufus Reilly replied scornfully. “It probably
don’t mean a thing. That dog couldn’t follow
no scent in the wet weather. Just the same,” he continued
wisely, “this here is a mysterious case, all
right, all right! I’m glad you called me in. It’s the
first time I’ve had any real work to do in years.
Now, what in thunder did I do with that paper?
I’ve got to study it a bit.” He began to search in
his numerous pockets.</p>
<p>“Here it is, Mr. Reilly,” Arden said handing it
to him. “You let me look at it.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, so I did! Well, I guess there’s not much
we can do around here, is there?” he asked the
girls. “Out of sight makes the mare go.” Another,
of his silly, joking proverbs.</p>
<p>They shook their heads silently. Arden took
Tania back to the houseboat again and shut her inside.
Food and water had been left for her. Then,
after a quick look around, they all left.</p>
<p>“I’ll work on the case,” Rufus Reilly announced
as he climbed into his car, “and let you know about
it sometime tomorrow. Don’t worry, though. It’ll
all come out in the wash.” And chuckling at his poor
joke he drove away in the early twilight.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_147">[147]</div>
<h2 id="c20"><br />CHAPTER XX
<br />Mrs. Landry Helps</h2>
<p>“Great help <i>he</i> is,” Sim remarked disdainfully as
they watched the old car bump along.</p>
<p>“We don’t know any more now than we did before,”
Terry said, agreeing with Sim.</p>
<p>“Yes, we do,” Arden contradicted. “You’re forgetting
about that paper. While you two were
watching Tania perform her little trick, I was memorizing
the words on that torn piece.”</p>
<p>“Good for you, Sherlock!” Sim exclaimed. “And
what do we do next? Go home and work out the
cryptogram?”</p>
<p>“Something like that,” Arden answered. “I’ve
got a plan. Let’s get going, and we’ll see how it
works out. Terry, is it too late to go to town for just
a few minutes? What I’m going to do won’t take
long.”</p>
<p>“What are you going to do?” Terry questioned.
“Tell us.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_148">[148]</div>
<p>“I thought of going to the drug store and trying
to trace the writer of this note by getting information
of the New York telephone company,” Arden
told them.</p>
<p>“Good idea, Ard! Of course we have time for
that. And, anyway, we’d better do it while you still
remember the words,” Terry said.</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t forget them,” Arden
replied with the first show of relief they had felt
in some time. “A Blake never forgets!”</p>
<p>They piled into the car and rode along the deserted
road to the village. The drug store was fortunately
empty except for a rather stupid-looking
boy clerk.</p>
<p>Arden entered the phone booth, and her chums
crowded around her. They waited impatiently for
the really short interval it took to make the connection
with the New York office. As the clear sharp
voice of the girl sang out “Information,” Arden
explained the difficulty.</p>
<p>“We are trying to get the phone number of an
address in New York,” she said, “but we’ve torn
the paper. I’ll give you as much as I can. Do you
think you can help us?”</p>
<p>“Sorry, madam,” came the voice, “but I can’t
possibly trace the name.”</p>
<p>Arden hung up and turned sorrowfully toward
her friends.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_149">[149]</div>
<p>“I might have known it,” she said. “Of course
we couldn’t do anything that way. It was a desperate
chance at best.”</p>
<p>“Too bad, Arden,” Terry soothed. “I still think
it was a good idea. But let’s get out of here; our
young friend,” she indicated the curious clerk, “is
awfully interested in us.”</p>
<p>“We’d better be starting for home, anyway,”
Arden suggested. “Your mother might worry.”</p>
<p>So they left the little village, which was quite
deserted now in the late afternoon, and wearily put
the car away for the night in the garage of the little
white house.</p>
<p>Mrs. Landry was interested to learn all that had
happened, and urged them to keep up their spirits.
Somewhat woefully, the girls smiled at her and
agreed at least to try further.</p>
<p>After the evening meal, when they gathered in
the living room, Arden and Sim decided to write
letters home but thought it best not to mention the
new “mystery.”</p>
<p>Arden sat at the small wicker desk, pen and paper
before her, and got as far as “Dearest Mother.”
But her mind was far away and after this auspicious
beginning she looked up from the paper dreamily.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_150">[150]</div>
<p>Poor Dimitri! Where could he be? And Olga—and
the paper and the snuffbox. Then Arden, drawing
a line through the beginning of her letter, wrote
down the queer words from the envelope.</p>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t3"><i>Ser</i></p>
<p class="t4"><i>Ninth S</i></p>
<p class="t5"><i>New Y</i></p>
</div>
<p>What could that possibly be? What man’s name
began with the letters S E R?</p>
<p>“Terry,” Arden said suddenly, “have you a dictionary
here? One that would have proper names in
it?”</p>
<p>“I have one that I brought down with some books
from Cedar Ridge. Will that help you?” Terry replied.</p>
<p>“Get it, will you, please,” Arden continued. “I’m
going to try and work out this puzzle and send a
telegram to an address. If it isn’t delivered, we’ll
know it’s no good. I’d rather spend the last of my
allowance that way than on candy.”</p>
<p>“Swell plan, Arden!” Sim exclaimed. “Get the
trusty dictionary, Terry, and let’s start to work.”</p>
<p>Terry dashed up the stairs and rummaged hurriedly
in the pile of almost forgotten college books
in her room and at length returned carrying the
volume.</p>
<p>Arden flicked back the flimsy pages and ran her
hand down the line.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_151">[151]</div>
<p>There were biblical first names as well as Greek
and Latin ones, and Arden was somewhat at sea
as she murmured:</p>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t4">Serah</p>
<p class="t4">Seraphim</p>
<p class="t4">Sered</p>
<p class="t4">Seres</p>
<p class="t4">Sergia</p>
<p class="t4">Sergius</p>
<p class="t4">Seriah</p>
<p class="t4">Seron</p>
<p class="t4">Serug</p>
</div>
<p>“Do you like any of them, or does any one sound
logical?” she asked her chums.</p>
<p>“Sergius!” exclaimed Sim. “That sounds Russian
to me.”</p>
<p>“Sergia,” Terry voted. “That’s also Russian, but
one may be a woman’s name. How can we get
around that? There’s no way of finding out from
this list. It’s very impartial.”</p>
<p>“We can get around it this way,” Arden declared.
“Just use Serg. Then we’ll be safe if it’s a man or
woman. You know a boy’s name could be Ted, and
they call some girls Ted. I’m in favor of just Serg.”</p>
<p>“It sounds good,” admired Terry.</p>
<p>“I’m for it,” added Sim. “But what about a last
name?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_152">[152]</div>
<p>“There’s going to be a rub,” said Terry. “We
took the easiest part first.”</p>
<p>“It seems almost impossible, doesn’t it?” sighed
Arden.</p>
<p>“Yes, it does. It might be Smith or Brown or
Jones,” Sim remarked. “This is quite an undertaking,
I’m afraid.”</p>
<p>“Well, there’s no harm in trying,” Arden protested.
“Working with Dimitri in mind, it’s logical
to suppose that, being Russian, he’d have Russian
friends or relatives, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>Sim and Terry agreed silently.</p>
<p>“I guess relatives, Arden,” said Sim suddenly. “I
think that man who came here looked like Dimitri.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you’re right, Sim. Shall we try Uzlov?”
Arden looked to them for agreement.</p>
<p>“Yes!” exclaimed Terry. “Serg Uzlov! That’s a
good start.”</p>
<p>“Of course, we may not gain anything by this,
and besides, perhaps we should have told Rufus
Reilly what we intend to do. Do you think so?”
questioned Arden, chewing the little ring on the top
of the fountain pen.</p>
<p>“Not at all!” Sim protested. “If Dimitri was a
brother, or something, I think we’d do just this, and
I think we’re perfectly justified in doing it.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_153">[153]</div>
<p>This outburst gave them new courage, and they
puzzled for some time over the address. Then
Terry finally called in her mother.</p>
<p>“What would be the Russian quarter in New
York, Mother?” she asked, explaining what they
were trying to do.</p>
<p>“Let me try to remember,” said Mrs. Landry.
“Perhaps if I looked again at the address as you
have it, something might suggest itself to me.”</p>
<p>They showed it to her, Arden writing it out from
memory again.</p>
<p>“There seems to be no question but what this
address is in New York,” Mrs. Landry went on,
after several seconds of obvious concentration.
“Now, as to the street. From the way the address
is written it must be Ninth Street. It cannot be
Nineteenth Street for there was no part of a word
before the Ninth, was there?”</p>
<p>“No.” The girls were agreed on that point.</p>
<p>“And it cannot have been Twenty-ninth, or
Thirty-ninth or any of the higher numbered streets
in the pines. Because the word Ninth was too near
the left side of the envelope. So I think it is safe to
assume that Ninth Street was intended.”</p>
<p>“Splendid!” exclaimed Arden. “Terry, your
mother should be in entire charge of this mystery
investigation.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_154">[154]</div>
<p>“Oh, no, my dear. None of that for me, if you
please,” Mrs. Landry laughed.</p>
<p>“But you’re helping us so!” murmured Sim.</p>
<p>“This may be no help at all, as it turns out. But
I’ll go on to the end as far as I can. We’ll decide
on Ninth Street. That, as you know, is at least
partly in what is, or was, the Greenwich Village
section of New York.</p>
<p>“I think it safe to say there are Russians there.
You know there are artists and writers living there
and all sorts of odd tearooms, some undoubtedly of
Russian character.”</p>
<p>“Oh, we are coming on!” cried Arden. “What
next, Mrs. Landry?”</p>
<p>“Well, I should say, from looking at this, that no
house number was ever put in front of the street.
Whoever wrote this must have known that the letter
would go to its destination without a house number
on it. The writer must have sent other letters
in the same way, trusting to the mail man knowing
where to leave it.”</p>
<p>“Some mail man!” commented Terry admiringly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_155">[155]</div>
<p>“But then Ninth Street may be a short one,” said
Mrs. Landry. “I can’t just recollect about that,
though I have been on it. At any rate, I think, in
such a desperate case as this,” and here she smiled
slightly, “you would be justified in sending the telegram
to the name you have selected, with just Ninth
Street, New York, as its destination. Those telegraph
messenger boys are clever. One may know
just where to take it or he may inquire of some
Russian in the Village. The Russians are clannish,
like all foreigners, and this person may be well
known.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sure it’s going to succeed now!” declared
Arden.</p>
<p>“Of course!” murmured her chums, Sim adding:</p>
<p>“You write the telegram out now, Ard.”</p>
<p>Arden wrote and read:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><i>“‘Serg Uzlov. Ninth Street, New York City. Can
you give us any information concerning Dimitri Uzlov?
Very important. Anxious to get in touch with
him. Telegraph my expense.’”</i></p>
</blockquote>
<p>“That’s a lot more than ten words,” remarked
Sim.</p>
<p>“Who cares?” laughed Terry. “This may mean a
lot. But you’ll have to sign some name to it, won’t
you?”</p>
<p>“Could we use yours, Mrs. Landry?” asked Arden.</p>
<p>“Yes, I think so,” Terry’s mother answered after
a moment of thought. “It will do no harm.”</p>
<p>“Then we’ll do it,” decided Arden.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_156">[156]</div>
<p>“I can hardly wait!” Sim cried excitedly. “Of
course we couldn’t go to town tonight?” she looked
beseechingly at Mrs. Landry.</p>
<p>“Of course not, my dear young Watson,” Terry’s
mother smiled as she replied. “You sleuths have
done quite enough for one day. Besides, think how
silly you’ll feel if you find out nothing has happened
at all.”</p>
<p>“I suppose so,” Terry reluctantly admitted. “But
somehow, Mother, I think there’s something in
this.”</p>
<p>“You may be right,” her mother agreed. “Nevertheless,
your commanding officer orders you all to
bed.”</p>
<p>Somewhat petulantly they kissed the jovial lady
good-night and went upstairs, but not to sleep till
some time later, when, unable to stay awake any
longer, they at last succumbed to the call of Morpheus.</p>
<p>But sleeping though they were, it was a fitful
rest. Filled with dreams of gold boxes, strange dark
women, and telegrams. Once Arden cried out,
“Tania! Tania!” and Sim gave her a sleepy nudge
to wake her from her dream.</p>
<p>Arden sighed and rolled over. Morning was so
long in coming. At length the smiling sun climbed
up over the edge of the ocean and announced the
beginning of a new day.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_157">[157]</div>
<h2 id="c21"><br />CHAPTER XXI
<br />Melissa Has a Pin</h2>
<p>As soon as they possibly could after breakfast
the next day, the three girls rowed over to the
houseboat and fed Tania. They let her romp for a
while and reluctantly locked her up again. They
feared the townspeople, ever on the watch for
something to talk about, would find some choice gossip
if they were seen in the village with the “Russian’s”
dog.</p>
<p>The storm was over, and the sun, almost a
stranger, broke through the clouds, blinding in its
brightness. The day promised to be hot, so dressed
in cool “semi-back” dresses the girls left the houseboat
and went home first to report to Mrs. Landry
that there was no news.</p>
<p>Then they got the car out and went to the village
to send the telegram, which they all hoped would
bring good results.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_158">[158]</div>
<p>“You’d better shut the door of the phone booth,”
Terry suggested to Arden as they entered the drug
store. “You never can tell who’ll be listening, and
the whole town would be excited if they heard the
message.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I think that would be best,” Arden agreed.</p>
<p>Trying to appear nonchalant, as though this was
an ordinary call, Arden sent off the message. She
requested an immediate answer. To make doubly
sure, she informed the operator who took the telegram
that she must know as soon as possible if it
was delivered and left the number of the drug-store
phone.</p>
<p>The telegraph company had an arrangement with
the drug store so that messages could be telephoned
in and payment made to the clerk. When Arden had
completed the dictation, at the request of the operator,
she got the drug clerk into the booth, and he
was informed as to the toll, which Arden paid him.</p>
<p>“It will take a while, even if it is delivered,”
Arden told her friends. “So we might as well do the
shopping and come back.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I do hope we get a reply,” Sim said earnestly.
“I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about
Dimitri.”</p>
<p>“For a person who couldn’t sleep, you gave a
marvelous imitation,” Arden answered sarcastically.
“Three or four times I could have sworn you were
dead to the world.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_159">[159]</div>
<p>“Me-ouw—me-ouw,” Terry squeaked. “Don’t be
catty! The time will go quicker if we keep busy.”</p>
<p>They did all the shopping they had to for Terry’s
mother and walked once around the block to kill
more time before returning to the drug store.</p>
<p>Arden could no longer be diplomatic. She
marched up to the dull-looking soda boy and asked
in clear tones: “Did a message come for me?”</p>
<p>“Haven’t had a call today,” replied the youth behind
the counter. “Were you expect——”</p>
<p>The phone bell rang sharply. Arden almost ran
to answer it, slamming the door shut behind her.</p>
<p>Terry and Sim could see her face, bright with
anticipation for a few seconds, then with dismay
saw her expression change. They couldn’t hear what
she was saying, but in a short while she was out
again and beckoned them to follow her outside.</p>
<p>“That was one of the managers of the telegraph
company in New York,” Arden reported. “He’s in
the office nearest Ninth Street. He said they
couldn’t send a boy out to deliver a message without
a street address—it would lose too much time. But
if we are willing to pay extra for messenger service,
he says he’ll have a boy sort of scout around
and try to locate the party.”</p>
<p>“What did you tell him?” asked Terry.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_160">[160]</div>
<p>“Told him to go ahead and we’d pay anything
in reason. He said it probably would not be much
more than a dollar.”</p>
<p>“We’ll chip in,” declared Terry.</p>
<p>“I thought you would; that’s why I authorized
him to go on. So now we’ll have some more waiting.
They’re going to try again.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I hope we have some luck this time,” Terry
remarked. “But whatever shall we do with ourselves
while we’re waiting?”</p>
<p>“That’s a problem,” Arden said thoughtfully.
“Let’s get our hair washed and waved. Mine could
stand it. It’s full of salt water.”</p>
<p>“Great!” Sim exclaimed. “Of course, we know
the beauty parlor here is nothing to write home
about, but it will serve.”</p>
<p>“It will serve us, little one,” Terry declared, and
they walked three abreast down the sunny street.</p>
<p>The girl operators were glad to have some new
customers, and city folks at that, so they asked
innumerable questions. The three girls were
guarded in their answers, afraid they would give
away their secret.</p>
<p>A none too gentle girl rubbed Arden’s scalp
with stubby fingers, keeping up her barrage of questions
the while. What was the latest coiffure in the
city? Was the long bob going out? What kind of a
permanent did she have? Wearily Arden answered,
wishing the girl would keep quiet.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_161">[161]</div>
<p>But at last it was over and they went back to
haunt the drug store again.</p>
<p>No, the clerk told them, no message had yet come.</p>
<p>The girls sat down on the steps outside. This was
not an unusual thing to do. In a small village one
could sit for hours by the gas station, post office, or
drug store without being thought queer.</p>
<p>In an agony of suspense, they waited fifteen minutes—twenty
minutes. They reached a point where
they were sitting silently, each busy with her own
worrying and wondering thoughts.</p>
<p>An answer was almost too much to expect of the
most kindly fate. But it was true there was no harm
in trying. Dimitri was gone, and the snuffbox too.
The situation, despite Chief Reilly’s jovial acceptance
of it, was taking on a serious character.</p>
<p>Sim was just about to ask if the state police
should not be notified, when the phone in the store
rang shrilly. They could hear it, for the booth door
had been left open.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_162">[162]</div>
<p>Arden jumped up. For a fleeting second she
looked at her companions as though to plead with
some unseen force that this call should bring results.
Then she dashed inside with no thought of
appearance. When she emerged from the booth this
time her chums knew she had met with some success.
Her face wreathed in smiles she burst out:</p>
<p>“We’ve got an answer!”</p>
<p>“Oh, what?”</p>
<p>“Tell us!”</p>
<p>“It was the telegraph manager again,” Arden
reported. “The boy finally located our man, and we
owe a dollar and a quarter. It took a little longer
than was expected.”</p>
<p>“Pooh! Only an extra quarter!” exclaimed Sim.</p>
<p>“But did they deliver the telegram?” asked
Terry.</p>
<p>“Yes, of course. To Serge Uzlov, and he wired
an answer.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” Sim and Terry exclaimed in unison.
“What did he say?”</p>
<p>“‘Leaving at once for Oceanedge,’” quoted Arden.</p>
<p>“How wonderful!” Terry almost shouted. “Then
he was some relative of poor Dimitri?”</p>
<p>“It looks that way,” admitted Arden. “Wait, we
must pay that dollar and a quarter,” she said
quickly, for Sim and Terry evinced a desire to hasten
away. They made up the money, though it
rather taxed their purses after the beauty parlor
treatment. But they didn’t mind in the least.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_163">[163]</div>
<p>“Now let’s go and tell your mother, Terry,” suggested
Sim.</p>
<p>They started out of the drug store and almost
bowled over Melissa Clayton, who was on the point
of entering.</p>
<p>“Oh, Melissa, how are you?” Sim asked. “We
haven’t seen you for a long time.”</p>
<p>“I’m all right,” the girl replied noncommittally.</p>
<p>“Weren’t sick, were you?” Arden asked.</p>
<p>“No, just a cold,” Melissa replied.</p>
<p>“All better?” Terry inquired. They were anxious
to be on their way, yet they could not pass by the
poor child for whom they had so much sympathy.</p>
<p>“What a pretty pin,” Arden remarked next,
looking at a stick pin with a deep red stone which
Melissa had thrust through the collar of an old
middy blouse. “Where did you get it?”</p>
<p>Sim and Terry pressed closer; they could tell
from Arden’s tone that this was no idle question,
and as they looked they started, for the pin, a
man’s, they had all seen Dimitri wearing the day of
the little tea party.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_164">[164]</div>
<h2 id="c22"><br />CHAPTER XXII
<br />The Policewoman</h2>
<p>“I found it,” Melissa replied without hesitating.</p>
<p>“How lucky! Where?” Arden continued.</p>
<p>“On the beach,” Melissa went on. Then she
pushed past the girls and entered the store.</p>
<p>Arden did not question her further, fearing to
make the girl suspicious. But on the way home the
three discussed the remarkable coincidence.</p>
<p>“Now, where on earth could Melissa have found
that pin?” Sim asked. “Of course, it belonged to
Dimitri, and I don’t for a minute believe she found
it on the beach.”</p>
<p>“Nor I,” Arden agreed. “My guess is that, if she
found it at all, she found it on the houseboat. And
that means she was there before we were, because
we went over it pretty thoroughly by ourselves, and
the chief didn’t miss anything when he came with
us.”</p>
<p>“I suppose we ought to ask if he found out anything,
just to keep up appearances,” Terry suggested.
“What do you think, girls?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_165">[165]</div>
<p>“Oh, of course, it would never do to let him
think we had forgotten about him. We can stop in
now and ask how the case is coming,” Arden replied.
“But we don’t need to mention the telegram.”</p>
<p>The chief, when they pulled up by the garage,
crawled out from under a car. With a comical show
of secrecy he came toward them, glancing over his
shoulder as he came.</p>
<p>“I ain’t had a chance to do nothing yet,” he said,
wiping some grease off his hands. “My car broke
down. But I’m a-studyin’ it, and I’ll let you know
this afternoon. You heard anything?”</p>
<p>Arden hesitated before replying. After all, she
had <i>heard</i> nothing. That they had an answer to
their telegram was just a bit of luck, and she
thought it just as well if the chief did not know of
it.</p>
<p>“No,” she answered. “We haven’t heard a
thing.”</p>
<p>“Well, don’t worry,” Reilly said, smiling. “Remember,
a murderer always returns to the scene of
his crime.”</p>
<p>“And you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s
ear,” Sim flung back at him. He did so annoy her!
Imagine “studyin’ it.” What good would that do,
and what nonsense was that about a murderer?</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_166">[166]</div>
<p>“That’s right!” chuckled Reilly. “You know,
young ladies, the whole trouble with cases of this
kind is haste. Haste is what gums things up. Go
slowly, and you have much better results. You ain’t
told anyone in town, have you? These here people
are powerful talkers.”</p>
<p>“Not a soul, Mr. Reilly,” Arden assured him.</p>
<p>“You keep on studying it and let us know when
you learn something, will you?” suggested Sim.</p>
<p>“’Deed I will, and I’ll have some news soon,
sure. In the meantime don’t forget. Look before
you leap,” the chief said, smiling.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Sim said as the car pulled away, “that’s
good advice, and ‘he who hesitates is lost’ is good,
too.”</p>
<p>Reilly looked after them with a puzzled expression
on his face. Was that little snip making fun of
him? Then he shrugged and crawled back under the
car he was trying to fix.</p>
<p>“Sim, you cheerful idiot, were you trying to make
him mad?” Terry asked as they drove home.</p>
<p>“No, but he annoyed me so I couldn’t help it. I
don’t believe he’ll be a bit of good. I know more
about mysteries than he does.”</p>
<p>“But it wouldn’t do to antagonize him. After all,
he’s the strong arm of the law down here,” Arden
reminded her.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_167">[167]</div>
<p>“Not such a very strong arm, in my opinion,”
Sim answered, and she slipped deeper down in the
car seat.</p>
<p>“Oh, well, don’t let’s argue,” Terry soothed.
“We’ve got too much to think about now.”</p>
<p>Sim was instantly alert again. “I remember distinctly
seeing that pin in Dimitri’s tie the day he
showed us the snuffbox. Melissa knows more than
we think,” she said.</p>
<p>“We don’t know very much when you come right
down to it,” Arden reminded her. “If a real detective
questioned us, there’s very little we could tell
him.”</p>
<p>“How long will it take that Serge Uzlov to get
down?” Sim asked of no one in particular. “I wish
he’d take a plane.”</p>
<p>“There’s no place here at Marshlands for a plane
to alight,” Terry answered. “Unless he took a seaplane
and landed on the bay. Think what excitement
that would cause!”</p>
<p>“I suppose so,” Sim admitted as they turned in
the driveway. “We’ll just have to wait. I won’t
have a fingernail left by evening. I chewed them
nearly all off waiting for that phone call.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_168">[168]</div>
<p>Terry whistled for her mother. At the sound of
that shrill call, Mrs. Landry, try as she did to appear
rather uninterested in the whole baffling case,
came out of the house quickly and listened with great
interest to the story of the message.</p>
<p>“And, Mother,” Terry finished, “as we left the
store we met Melissa coming in, and she was wearing
a tie pin of Dimitri’s. What do you think of
that?”</p>
<p>“Did you say anything about it?” Mrs. Landry
asked.</p>
<p>“We didn’t let her know we recognized it, and she
said she found it on the beach,” Terry answered.</p>
<p>“Perhaps she did. Surely you don’t think Melissa
had anything to do with all this?” Mrs. Landry
questioned.</p>
<p>“That’s just it. We don’t know <i>who</i> had anything
to do with it,” Terry moaned.</p>
<p>“Well,” Sim stated firmly, “I’ll feel better when
that man from New York gets here. I’ll bet he
knows something.”</p>
<p>The others had nothing to say to that, and they
all went indoors for luncheon.</p>
<p>The meal was nearly finished when there was a
knock at the front door. Bells in seashore cottages
never seem to ring. They may at the beginning of
the season, but almost always, before it ends, there
appears over the push button a little note stating:
“Please knock.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_169">[169]</div>
<p>Now, in answer to that invitation, a knock
sounded.</p>
<p>“I’ll go,” said Ida, who had just brought in the
dessert.</p>
<p>The three girls glanced eagerly at one another.</p>
<p>Was it Serge?</p>
<p>But in another moment they knew it was not, for
they heard the murmuring of a woman’s voice talking
to the maid. Presently Ida came back, a frightened
look on her face, to announce:</p>
<p>“It’s a policewoman.”</p>
<p>“A policewoman!” exclaimed Mrs. Landry. “Are
you sure, Ida?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes’m. I’ve seen ’em in New York. They all
dress the same, and they have a queer look on their
face, and they wear heavy shoes. It’s a policewoman
all right.”</p>
<p>“But what does she want?” Terry asked.</p>
<p>“Melissa Clayton,” said Ida.</p>
<p>“Oh!” murmured Arden. “If they arrest that
poor child——”</p>
<p>“Perhaps we’d better have this policewoman in,”
suggested Mrs. Landry.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes!” said Sim. “We’ve got to find out about
this. Perhaps she may know something about Dimitri.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_170">[170]</div>
<h2 id="c23"><br />CHAPTER XXIII
<br />On the Water Trail</h2>
<p>Mrs. Landry told Ida to invite the visitor to sit
on the front porch while the dessert was being
eaten.</p>
<p>“If I asked her into the front room she would
probably hear what you girls talk about,” said
Terry’s mother, “and you are sure to talk, I know.”</p>
<p>“You can’t blame us in these circumstances,” said
Sim.</p>
<p>“No, I can’t.” Mrs. Landry smiled understandingly.
“But why should a policewoman come here
for this child?”</p>
<p>“We’re going to find out very soon,” declared
Arden.</p>
<p>The dessert was eaten in record time, and then,
after a whispered conference, it was decided that
Mrs. Landry should first interview the caller alone
and, if necessary, call in the girls.</p>
<p>“Though, if she wants us to help her catch poor
Melissa, what shall we do?” whispered Terry.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_171">[171]</div>
<p>“We won’t tell her a thing,” decided Sim. “Why
should we make more trouble for the poor child?”</p>
<p>“Even if she took Dimitri’s pin?” suggested
Arden.</p>
<p>“We don’t know that she took it—we don’t even
know, for sure, that it is his pin,” said Terry while
her mother went out on the porch. “We couldn’t
prove it in court.”</p>
<p>“I suppose not,” agreed Arden. “Though I, myself,
believe it is his. Now, be careful,” she warned.
“Don’t let on that we know anything about Melissa,
or have just seen her, unless we have to.”</p>
<p>The others agreed to this. They could hear the
murmuring talk between Mrs. Landry and the
caller. Presently Terry’s mother came into the dining
room, where the girls were still sitting, to say:</p>
<p>“It isn’t anything to worry about. Good news,
rather than bad.”</p>
<p>“About Dimitri?” asked Arden eagerly.</p>
<p>“No. It’s all Melissa. You had better hear this
woman’s story. She doesn’t want to arrest the poor
child, so you can talk freely to her. And she isn’t a
policewoman. She is from a private detective agency,
though.”</p>
<p>“It’s almost as bad,” said Terry. “Why is a detective
agency interested in Melissa?”</p>
<p>“You had better hear the whole story,” suggested
Mrs. Landry. “Come, and I will introduce you.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_172">[172]</div>
<p>The three girls trailed after her out to the porch.
The woman was as Ida had described her. She
looked determined and efficient but not unkind, nor
like one who would, as Arden remarked later,
“hound a poor girl to death.”</p>
<p>“This is my daughter,” said Mrs. Landry, presenting
Terry, “and her two college chums who are
spending the summer with her. Miss Blake and Miss
Westover.”</p>
<p>“Pleased to meet you. I’m Emma Tash, and I’m
from the Torrance Private Detective Agency in
New York. I was sent down here by my chief to find
out something about a girl named Melissa Clayton.
As we always do in these cases, we make some inquiries
of friends and neighbors before going directly
to the parties themselves.</p>
<p>“I stopped in the village, and I found out that
you people are friendly with this girl. Do you mind
telling me something about her?”</p>
<p>“With the understanding,” put in Mrs. Landry,
“that there is no harm intended to Melissa.”</p>
<p>“Oh, now,” Emma Tash was quick to say, “I told
you that at the start.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind repeating it for the
benefit of my daughter and her friends,” suggested
Terry’s mother.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_173">[173]</div>
<p>“Not at all. I’ll put my cards on the table, so to
speak, and you can judge how much you want to tell
me. This Melissa Clayton, according to the case as
it comes to me, has an elderly aunt, her mother’s
sister, who is quite wealthy. This aunt, a widow
named Mrs. Lulu Benlon, has for a long time
wanted to befriend this girl, but Melissa’s father
refuses to let anything be done for her.”</p>
<p>“Just like him!” murmured Arden.</p>
<p>“I heard something like that in the village,” went
on Emma Tash. “But we’ll come to him later. Anyhow,
the firm I am with has been hired to see if
something can’t be done now. It seems that several
times, in years past, Mrs. Benlon tried to do something
for Melissa but was prevented. After being
turned down more than once, she gave up. Now
Mrs. Benlon is ailing. She’s afraid she is going to
die soon, but before that she wants to make another
effort to help Melissa.”</p>
<p>“Couldn’t she leave her money in a will?” asked
Sim.</p>
<p>“Yes, that was talked of, but Mrs. Benlon is
queer,” said Emma Tash. “She wants to be sure
Melissa will get the benefit of her help, and if she
left her money there is no telling that Melissa would
ever get it. Mrs. Benlon, it seems, wants the satisfaction
of knowing, herself, that what she does will
really benefit the girl.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_174">[174]</div>
<p>“She’s probably wise there,” said Mrs. Landry.</p>
<p>“Yes, I guess so,” the detective investigator admitted.
“So that’s why I’m here. Mrs. Benlon has
offered to take Melissa out of what, from all accounts,
is a poor sort of a home and give her a good
one—even send her to school to be educated. But
Mrs. Benlon doesn’t want George Clayton to have
anything of her bounty. It seems that he wasn’t kind
to his wife, who was Mrs. Benlon’s younger sister.</p>
<p>“As I get the story, it was a sort of runaway
match; marry in haste and repent all the rest of your
life. Anyhow, Melissa’s mother died soon after the
girl’s birth, and she had been brought up in a hand-to-mouth
sort of way ever since, according to Mrs.
Benlon. But if it can be brought about there is a
happier time ahead for Melissa. Now that you
know what I want, will you help me?”</p>
<p>“Yes!” exclaimed Arden, and her chums nodded
in agreement.</p>
<p>“What do you want us to do?” asked Terry.</p>
<p>“Tell me all you can about this girl and her father
and, if you can, suggest how I can best get in communication
with them,” said Emma Tash.</p>
<p>“That last part isn’t going to be easy,” said
Terry. “George Clayton is a queer man; ugly too,
I’m afraid.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_175">[175]</div>
<p>“That bears out what I have heard,” said the investigator.
“But there must be some way. Perhaps
you can help me. But first tell me all you can—that
is, all you want me to know.”</p>
<p>This last clause was a saving one for the girls.
They felt, under it, that they need not mention the
pin nor any possible connection Melissa might have
with the houseboat. Dimitri Uzlov need not be
brought in, nor the fact that he was not to be found.
The girls could still keep to themselves, as far as
Emma Tash was concerned, the secret of the man
missing at Marshlands.</p>
<p>With this in mind, Terry, Arden, and Sim, by
turns, assisted with a word from Mrs. Landry now
and then, told about Melissa Clayton and her
father.</p>
<p>“They live in a sort of shack on the edge of the
bay, not far from the marsh,” said Terry. “You
can get to it by a long winding road out of the village,
but the best way is to go by boat.”</p>
<p>“Then I’ll go that way,” said the woman detective
determinedly.</p>
<p>“I don’t believe you’ll get very close to the Clayton
shack if you approach openly by boat,” said
Terry. “George Clayton is a suspicious man, and if
he’s home he’ll probably order you off his premises.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_176">[176]</div>
<p>“He may not be home,” said Emma Tash. “If he
isn’t, so much the better. I can talk to Melissa alone.
She ought to be old enough to make up her mind to
leave her poverty for a better home with her aunt.”</p>
<p>“That’s just it,” said Arden. “I think Melissa is
rather simple-minded, to state it gently. Do you
think you would be justified in inducing that sort of
a person to do something her father would oppose?”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, I wouldn’t do that for anything,” was
the quick answer. “If I find her that kind of a girl
I will report back to my office and we’ll get legal
advice. But Mrs. Benlon thinks she owes a duty to
her niece, and she wants to carry it out as soon as
she can.”</p>
<p>“Here’s an idea,” said Sim suddenly. “What
about going crabbing?”</p>
<p>“Going crabbing!” exclaimed Arden, not seeing
the relevancy of the remark. “What in the world
for?”</p>
<p>“We have to take the water trail to the Clayton
shack,” went on Sim. “Now, if we pretend to be
crabbing we can gradually work our way toward it
without exciting suspicion. Melissa may be outside
or even out in a boat herself, crabbing or fishing.
Her father may be out lifting his lobster pots. In
that case Miss Tash can see the girl and talk with
her. Melissa won’t be afraid if she sees us.”</p>
<p>“Say, that’s a good idea!” declared Terry.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_177">[177]</div>
<p>“But you know,” said Arden, “we have to wait
here for——”</p>
<p>She did not finish, though her chums knew whom
she meant.</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t want to take you away,” Emma Tash
hastened to assure the girls. “I could go by myself.”</p>
<p>“I think it would be better if some of the girls
went with you,” suggested Mrs. Landry. “Melissa
would feel much more confidence.”</p>
<p>“I suppose she would, as I’m a stranger to her.
But I hate to be a bother.”</p>
<p>“No bother at all,” said Terry. “One of us can
go with you, and the rest of us can stay here to receive
our expected visitor. He may not come after
all,” she added.</p>
<p>“Oh, I think he will,” said Arden.</p>
<p>“Then you two stay here,” suggested Terry
quickly. “I will go in our boat with this lady. We’ll
do some crabbing. It will be the best way.”</p>
<p>“And if our friend comes,” said Sim, “we’ll hold
him until you get back, Terry.”</p>
<p>“Yes, do that.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_178">[178]</div>
<h2 id="c24"><br />CHAPTER XXIV
<br />The Man Arrives</h2>
<p>Emma Tash was a very efficient woman. No sooner
had the crabbing plan of approaching the Clayton
shack been decided upon than she lifted up a small
black bag which she had set beside her chair.</p>
<p>“If we are going crabbing,” she said with a smile,
“I have my disguise in here.”</p>
<p>“Disguise!” repeated the girls in a chorus.</p>
<p>Truly things were developing fast at Marshlands.</p>
<p>A detective woman!</p>
<p>A disguise!</p>
<p>Arden’s eyes sparkled.</p>
<p>“It isn’t much of a disguise,” went on Emma
Tash. “We women investigators don’t go in much
for that sort of thing. Some of our men do, though.
But when I knew I had to come down to the seashore,
naturally I thought of bathing, fishing, or
crabbing.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_179">[179]</div>
<p>“Now, I’m not very fond of ocean bathing, so I
passed up that suit. I don’t know how to fish, but I
do know how to crab, and I used to do it when I
was a girl. So I brought my crabbing disguise with
me.”</p>
<p>“What in the world is a crabbing disguise?” asked
Terry, as their visitor laughed. “George Clayton
doesn’t wear one.”</p>
<p>“It’s just an old dress I don’t care what happens
to,” said Emma Tash, “and an old-fashioned sunbonnet.
With that on, I defy anyone who sees me in
it to recognize me afterward if I dress as I am now.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that sort of a disguise,” laughed Terry.
“Well, I guess that will be all right. And we had
better start,” she added. “Time is passing, and I
want to be back here to help receive our visitor.”</p>
<p>“I will be as quick as I can,” Emma Tash said.
“If I could go somewhere to change my dress——”</p>
<p>“I’ll show you,” offered Mrs. Landry. “Come
with me, please.”</p>
<p>While the visitor was upstairs, the girls, in breathless
whispers, discussed her and her errand. They
agreed that the plan they had adopted was the best
one possible in the circumstances.</p>
<p>“Only,” sighed Terry who, in a sense, was offering
herself as a sacrifice, “I do hope Serge Uzlov
doesn’t arrive until I get back.”</p>
<p>“We’ll keep him for you,” promised Arden.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_180">[180]</div>
<p>Emma Tash certainly was a very different person
in her crabbing disguise. She looked the part of a
back-country native to perfection. She and Terry
were soon off in the boat, provided with a net, a
peach basket to hold the crabs, and some old pieces
of meat, on strings, for bait.</p>
<p>Sim and Arden watched Terry row away in the
direction of the Clayton shack.</p>
<p>“And now we’ll just have to sit here and wait,”
sighed Arden as Terry and her passenger disappeared
around a point.</p>
<p>“We could go in swimming,” suggested Sim, ever
mindful of her ambition to become an expert in
aquatic sports.</p>
<p>“Then let’s. It will make the time pass quicker.
After all, I don’t believe he can get here until late
afternoon. There aren’t many shore trains out of
New York until near the commuting hour,” said
Arden.</p>
<p>So Sim and Arden put on their suits and went in
for a dip. But it was rather too cool for real enjoyment
in the water, and they soon came out and
sunned themselves on the sand.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Terry, with her usual skill at the oars,
was sending the boat along at good speed toward
their objective.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_181">[181]</div>
<p>“Mustn’t row too fast now, though,” she told
Emma Tash when she was near the Clayton shack.
“Crabbers usually just anchor, put the bait over the
side, and wait for bites.”</p>
<p>“I know,” said the detective woman. “I’ve done
it often enough. But crabbers often haul up the anchor
and go from place to place looking for better
luck. In that way we can gradually approach without
any suspicions.”</p>
<p>“I think so,” Terry agreed.</p>
<p>She rowed on until they were within view of the
place where Melissa lived. There was no sign of
life about the shack or its outbuildings. Whether
Melissa had returned home after meeting the girls
in the drug store, Terry had no way of finding out.</p>
<p>“Perhaps we’d better stop here,” suggested
Emma Tash. “I can make an observation while you
put some bait over the side.”</p>
<p>“Observation?” questioned Terry.</p>
<p>“Yes. With these. We find them useful on cases.”</p>
<p>Emma Tash produced from a pocket in her crabbing
dress a binocular, and as Terry threw the little
anchor over, Emma Tash focused the glass on the
Clayton shack.</p>
<p>The boat had drifted the length of the anchor
rope with the incoming tide, which is always best for
crabbing, and Terry was putting over the first bit
of bait when the detective woman lowered the binocular
and said:</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_182">[182]</div>
<p>“Not a sign of life. I guess there’s nobody home.”</p>
<p>“Melissa would hardly have had time to get here
since we saw her in the drug store,” said Terry.
“And very likely her father is out in his boat.”</p>
<p>“Then we’ll just have to wait and trust to luck,”
was the decision of Emma Tash. “I’d like to see the
girl alone.”</p>
<p>They began to crab in earnest now. For, after all,
George Clayton might be lurking about his place
and see them. For a time Terry really entered into
the enjoyment of their occupation, for the crabs
were biting well and she landed a number of big
blue-clawed ones, while her companion did likewise.</p>
<p>Now and then they would net a “mammy,” her
apron bulging with a cluster of yellow eggs ready
to be deposited in some clump of the lettuce-like seaweed.
These “mammy” crabs were always thrown
back to aid in the propagation of future generations.</p>
<p>“I think we had better move a little—a little
closer,” suggested the detective in a low voice after
a half hour of good luck. “I want to take another
look.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Terry agreed. She pulled up the anchor,
but this time the policewoman did the rowing, and
she rowed well. Terry envied her skill.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_183">[183]</div>
<p>Again they anchored, but this time they had
picked a poor location and caught nothing. Inspection
through the glass still revealed no sign of life
about the place. It appeared silent and deserted.</p>
<p>“I think we can chance going a bit closer,” said
Emma Tash after another half hour. “If I don’t see
anything then, I believe I’ll take a chance and land.
I’ll walk up to the place. Melissa may be asleep in
there.”</p>
<p>“I hardly think so,” said Terry. “But you can
try.”</p>
<p>They hoisted the anchor again, moved nearer the
place, and once more the glass was used.</p>
<p>“I can’t see a sign of anybody,” Emma Tash declared.
“I’m going up there.”</p>
<p>Once more Terry pulled up the mud-hook, and
again the oars were used by the detective. But just
as she was easing up, in preparation to letting the
boat glide up the mucky beach, a man’s voice called:</p>
<p>“Keep away from here! I don’t let nobody land!”</p>
<p>George Clayton suddenly appeared in front of his
shack, holding a long pole.</p>
<p>“Get away!” he cried. “This is a private beach!
You can crab all you want to out there, but don’t
land. I’ve warned you!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_184">[184]</div>
<p>“Well, that’s that,” said Terry in a low voice.
She held her head down. In spite of the fact that she
was wearing a big straw hat, she feared the man
might recognize her.</p>
<p>But Emma Tash did not give up so easily.</p>
<p>“Can’t we land and get a drink of water?” she
called.</p>
<p>“No! Keep off!”</p>
<p>“Very well.”</p>
<p>There was nothing for it but to row away, and
this they did.</p>
<p>“But I’m not giving up,” said the detective when
they were on their way back to “Buckingham Palace.”
Terry wondered if Serge were there. “I’ll go
back to New York and suggest a different method,”
Emma Tash said. “The girl’s aunt is anxious to do
something for the child, and her brute of a father
shouldn’t be allowed to stand in the way.”</p>
<p>“Of course not,” Terry agreed.</p>
<p>She rowed fast back to the little dock, and her
first unasked question was answered, as Sim and
Arden who came down to meet her, with Arden’s
remark:</p>
<p>“He hasn’t arrived yet.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m glad I didn’t miss him,” Terry said.</p>
<p>Emma Tash changed back into her regular dress,
put the crabbing disguise into her bag and, thanking
them all for the help, started for the village,
saying she would take a train back to New York.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_185">[185]</div>
<p>“But I’m coming here again,” she said. “And if
you get a chance I wish you would let Melissa know
that her aunt wants to help her.”</p>
<p>“We will,” Terry promised.</p>
<p>It was now late afternoon, and the girls, nervous
with the tension, sat on the porch, waiting. Not for
anything would they now go far away from the
house. The “man from New York” might arrive
any minute.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear,” Sim wailed. “Isn’t this suspense
awful? If that man doesn’t come soon, I’ll——”</p>
<p>“It’s almost five o’clock,” Arden said, looking at
her watch. “He ought to get here soon.”</p>
<p>“You youngsters will be nervous wrecks,” Mrs.
Landry remarked as Terry paced restlessly up and
down the front porch. “Can’t you find something to
do?”</p>
<p>“I can’t sit still long enough to do anything,”
Terry replied.</p>
<p>“Listen!” Arden cautioned. “Isn’t that a car?”</p>
<p>Instantly there was quiet. They all strained their
ears to hear the sound of bumping wheels.</p>
<p>“Yes!” Terry exclaimed. “Come on!”</p>
<p>Flinging open the screen door of the porch she
raced around to the back, where the yellow sand
road stretched. Sim and Arden followed close behind
her.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_186">[186]</div>
<p>They stood like pointers, immobile, while the car
approached. It reached the gate and stopped. The
side door was opened, and a polished shoe was thrust
out. Then the whole man appeared, and the girls
gasped audibly. It was the dark young man who had
rowed himself over to the houseboat when they last
heard from Dimitri!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_187">[187]</div>
<h2 id="c25"><br />CHAPTER XXV
<br />The Man in the Marsh</h2>
<p>“Then it was you!” Arden burst out impulsively as
she saw him.</p>
<p>“I beg your pardon?” the young man replied,
somewhat puzzled. “I am Serge Uzlov. I received a
telegram this morning which brought me down here.
Did you——?”</p>
<p>“I sent it,” Arden replied. “We guessed at your
address and sent it because we thought you might
know something about Dimitri.”</p>
<p>“Know something—about my own brother? I’m
afraid I don’t understand.” He looked from one to
the other of the girls, his face showing wonderment
and some fear.</p>
<p>“Of course, how could you?” Terry remarked.
“Please come up on the porch, and we’ll explain.”</p>
<p>There, while he sipped a cool drink Sim got for
him, Serge Uzlov heard the queer story of Dimitri’s
disappearance.</p>
<p>“So you see,” Arden went on, “we got worried
and took a chance on the telegram.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_188">[188]</div>
<p>“It was a very lucky chance, as it turned out,”
Serge agreed. “I cannot imagine what could become
of Dimitri. He’s a lonely fellow, yes. But he always
keeps in touch with me. I had a long talk with him
when I was down before, and he seemed in good
health and the best of spirits.”</p>
<p>“He didn’t say anything about going away, then?”
Arden asked.</p>
<p>“Not a word. In fact, he told me how much he
liked it down here,” the young man went on. “Could
we not go over to the boat? I am anxious to look
around.”</p>
<p>“Yes, we can go over at once,” Arden replied.
“We shall go by boat, it is quicker.”</p>
<p>They all got into the faithful little rowboat, and
the young man took the oars. He could row with
quite some skill, being an athletic type. His tanned
face showed he was no stranger to outdoor life.
Arden looked searchingly at him. Just what did he
know?</p>
<p>Sim and Terry were curious, too. They were suspicious
of everyone now. The fact that this man
claimed to be the brother of Dimitri proved nothing.</p>
<p>The boat moved quickly through the quiet evening
water.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_189">[189]</div>
<p>“We did tell the chief of police about your
brother,” Arden admitted, “but you have nothing
to fear from him. He’s studying the case, as he says,
and the last time we saw him he was working on his
old car.”</p>
<p>The young man smiled. “I am sure Dimitri will
be found all right,” he said. “And I’m very grateful
to you for sending for me. It was indeed fortunate
that you found the paper. From your description of
it, I think it must have been from my sister Olga.
She has been here, she tells me, to see Dimitri.”</p>
<p>“Olga! Your sister!” Sim exclaimed unbelievingly.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Serge Uzlov replied. “There are just the
three of us, now. Olga, Dimitri, and I. We are a
queer family, I suppose, each one living alone; each
one having his own friends and always trying to
make ends meet.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know just what we imagined about you
and your sister,” Arden said slyly, “but it never occurred
to us, I’m sure, that you two were related.”</p>
<p>“And you were too well mannered to ask,” Serge
suggested, smiling.</p>
<p>“Or perhaps we just didn’t think about it,” Sim
said modestly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_190">[190]</div>
<p>The young man pulled vigorously, and the little
rowboat plowed through the bay. To their right, as
they approached it, lay the <i>Merry Jane</i>, looking as
they had last seen it.</p>
<p>When they were close to the houseboat, Tania
began to bark: sharp, staccato barks and deep
growls in her throat.</p>
<p>“Tania must have heard us coming,” Sim suggested.</p>
<p>“I think, Sim,” Arden corrected her, “that Tania’s
barking at something else. She sounds pretty
angry to me.”</p>
<p>They listened again. Tania was snarling and barking
furiously.</p>
<p>“Tania!” called Arden as they came alongside
the houseboat. “Tania, we are your friends!”</p>
<p>As she called they all heard the sound of running
footsteps on the part of the deck farthest away
from them.</p>
<p>“There’s somebody here!” Serge cried, and hurried
to make fast the rowboat.</p>
<p>Leaving the girls still seated in the skiff, Serge
leaped from it to the deck of the <i>Merry Jane</i> just in
time to see a man jump over the side into the deep
marsh grass.</p>
<p>Serge looked after him, but the intruder was completely
hidden by the tall growth.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_191">[191]</div>
<p>“He got away!” Serge called to the girls. He was
about to follow the runaway man when Arden
stopped him.</p>
<p>“There’s no use in following him, you could never
catch him in that marsh,” she said and Serge was
forced to agree with her as he saw how dense were
the tall cat-tails and sedge-grass in the swamp.</p>
<p>“What did he look like?” Terry asked.</p>
<p>“I couldn’t see his face. He was just going over
the side when I approached. But I saw black rubber
boots.”</p>
<p>“That might have been anyone,” Arden said.
“Half the natives in Oceanedge wear boots around
the marsh.”</p>
<p>“Let’s go inside,” suggested Sim, “and see what
he was after.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” agreed Serge. “That’s the only thing to do
now.”</p>
<p>He led the way and, not pausing for a moment
in the outer room, parted the curtains and, as the
girls could see, went straight to the shattered cupboard.</p>
<p>“It’s gone!” Serge exclaimed. He turned to face
the girls, his hands spread wide in a gesture of despair.
“It’s gone!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_192">[192]</div>
<h2 id="c26"><br />CHAPTER XXVI
<br />Melissa Again</h2>
<p>Sim smiled a little bitterly. “If you mean the snuffbox,”
she said, “we know it’s gone. It has been for
some time.”</p>
<p>“Then you know about it?” Serge asked.</p>
<p>“We knew Dimitri <i>had</i> it, if that’s what you
mean,” Arden went on. “But we don’t know where
it is <i>now</i>.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” the young man breathed a sigh of
relief, “Dimitri has it with him, wherever he is.”</p>
<p>“He may have. We can’t prove he hasn’t,” Terry
said explaining. “But why should he have broken
open his own cupboard?”</p>
<p>“You’re right!” exclaimed Serge. “He would
never have done that.”</p>
<p>“I wonder what that man who jumped overboard
was doing,” Sim mused. “I don’t see that he has
touched anything in here.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_193">[193]</div>
<p>After a look around, they all agreed that, whatever
was his mysterious reason for coming, he apparently
had left in a hurry. Several books that had
been on the table now lay on the floor, but that was
all in evidence.</p>
<p>“We’re just as much in the dark as ever,” Terry
remarked sadly. “We’ll have to start all over
again.”</p>
<p>“Tell us about Dimitri,” Arden said to Serge.
“You were, as far as we can tell, the last person
who saw him a——” she started, she had almost
said “alive.” So she began again. “Was he all right
when you saw him last? Did he say anything about
going away?”</p>
<p>“We sat talking and eating all evening,” Serge
explained. “Russians are great eaters, you know.
But Dimitri didn’t mention going away, and I left
him in the best of spirits. Then I rowed back, got
into my car, and drove on to New York.”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t help at all,” Sim wailed. “It only
proves that Dimitri left very suddenly and probably
against his will. He would have told you if he’d
planned leaving, wouldn’t he?” she asked the young
man.</p>
<p>“I am sure he had no thought of going,” Serge
hastened to assure her. “He was too much interested
in the portrait he was finishing.”</p>
<p>“You mean the one of me?” Arden asked simply.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_194">[194]</div>
<p>“Yes; you’ve seen it?”</p>
<p>“We looked—after Dimitri——” Arden said
sadly. “Do you think he would mind?”</p>
<p>Serge shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. We have
something more important to think about.”</p>
<p>“But the worst of it is,” Sim complained, “that
we’re so helpless.”</p>
<p>“We can do nothing here, at any rate,” agreed
Serge.</p>
<p>“You will come to dinner with us, won’t you?”
Terry asked. “Mother expects you. There is no place
in town where you can get anything worth eating.”</p>
<p>“You are sure it won’t be too much trouble? I
did not expect it, you know,” Serge answered, smiling.</p>
<p>“Of course not,” Terry insisted. “You have to
get your car, anyway.”</p>
<p>After another look around, the little party left
the houseboat once more. Tania seemed used to
these comings and goings, for she took no notice of
them as they departed.</p>
<p>The water of the bay was as smooth as glass as
they rowed away, the girls looking back wistfully
as they left the houseboat behind.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_195">[195]</div>
<p>Terry’s mother had a delicious meal waiting, and
after so much excitement and activity the girls felt
very hungry.</p>
<p>The conversation naturally centered about the disappearance
of Dimitri. They discussed it from all
angles. It was during a lull in the talk that Terry
gave a little scream.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter?” Arden asked at once.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Terry answered. “I saw a face at the
window, and it made me jump. But it’s only Melissa
again.”</p>
<p>“See what she wants, Terry,” Mrs. Landry told
her daughter. “Perhaps the poor child is hungry.”</p>
<p>Terry left the table and hurried outside. She
could see Melissa running down the path in the late
summer twilight. She was wearing black rubber hip
boots and her old gray sweater, but surely, Terry
thought to herself, it couldn’t have been Melissa
whom they had seen on the houseboat. Terry felt
she must stop the girl, at any rate, to find out.</p>
<p>“Melissa! Melissa!” Terry called. “Wait, I have
something for you.”</p>
<p>Melissa stopped and faced Terry. “What?” she
asked abruptly. “What’ve you got?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_196">[196]</div>
<p>“Something nice,” Terry assured her, and then,
because she could think of nothing else, she asked
the frightened girl, “Do you like chocolate cake?”</p>
<p>“Sure do,” Melissa replied shyly. “Heaps!”</p>
<p>“Come on back, then,” Terry coaxed, and Melissa
came towards her.</p>
<p>Terry took her into the bright little kitchen and
gave her a large glass of milk and a big piece of
chocolate cake. Melissa ate greedily, and Terry
spoke gently to her to gain her confidence.</p>
<p>“That certainly is a lovely pin,” Terry remarked.
“Would you mind if I showed it to my mother?
She’s in the other room, but I’ll bring it right back.”</p>
<p>“I guess so,” Melissa agreed reluctantly, and
taking the stick pin from her collar she handed the
ornament to Terry. Her rather pale blue eyes were
questioning her benefactor, and she looked not at
all sure that she liked the situation.</p>
<p>Terry took the pin and pushed in the swinging
door that led to the dining room.</p>
<p>“Come, finish your dinner,” Mrs. Landry said.
“What happened to Melissa?”</p>
<p>“She’s out in the kitchen,” Terry replied and put
a warning finger to her lips. “Don’t let her hear
you. I just wanted to show this to Mr. Uzlov.” She
held the pin out to Serge. “Isn’t this your brother’s?”</p>
<p>Serge took it and examined it closely.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_197">[197]</div>
<p>“I gave it to Dimitri years ago,” he said. “He always
liked it. I don’t believe he would have parted
with it willingly.”</p>
<p>“We didn’t think so, either,” Arden remarked,
taking what small satisfaction there was in the fact.</p>
<p>“Go back to her, Terry,” Mrs. Landry directed,
“and talk to her a bit. See if she will tell you anything.
But don’t frighten her,” she cautioned, and
then to Serge she explained, “Melissa is like some
woodland creature. She runs at the first hint of danger.
Poor child! The girls have done all they can to
help her, but she doesn’t trust anyone.”</p>
<p>Terry, taking the pin, they all having decided it
would excite Melissa if they kept it, returned to the
kitchen.</p>
<p>Ida, the maid, was rattling pans and knives in
the sink, but Melissa was gone.</p>
<p>“Where’s Melissa?” Terry asked.</p>
<p>“She went,” Ida answered briefly.</p>
<p>“Why? Did you say anything to frighten her?”
Terry wanted to know.</p>
<p>“Never said a word,” Ida insisted. “She et the
cake and got up and walked out.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_198">[198]</div>
<p>Terry clenched her fists. Melissa gone again, and
just when they thought they would learn something.
If the girl really wanted to hide, they could never
find her. There was only one thing to do. Follow
her at once before she got too far away.</p>
<p>“I’ll be back in a minute,” Terry flung over her
shoulder, and still holding the pin clutched in one
hand she slipped out the back door after the elusive
Melissa Clayton.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_199">[199]</div>
<h2 id="c27"><br />CHAPTER XXVII
<br />Terry’s Tactics</h2>
<p>Melissa was just about to push off in her old rowboat
when Terry, without asking permission, hopped
in and sat smiling at the startled girl.</p>
<p>“You’re in a great hurry, Melissa,” Terry said
in an effort to be friendly. “You forgot your pin.”</p>
<p>Without saying a word Melissa held out her hand.
But Terry, holding up the piece of jewelry, teased
Melissa.</p>
<p>“I’ll give it to you when you tell me where you
really got it,” Terry said.</p>
<p>“I found it, just like I told you,” Melissa insisted.</p>
<p>“Come, now, Melissa, that’s hard to believe. But
don’t let me stop you from having your sail. I’d be
glad to have someone row me for a change. I’m always
giving other people a ride.”</p>
<p>“Well, I ought to be gettin’ home. Pa will wonder
about me,” Melissa said.</p>
<p>“Don’t forget that piece of cake I just gave you.
And you left before I got back to you. Why? Is anything
worrying you?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_200">[200]</div>
<p>“No, I just thought I’d better go,” Melissa murmured
sulkily. “Thanks for the cake.”</p>
<p>“That’s all right, I’d give you something a lot
better than that if you could help me,” Terry said.
Perhaps if Melissa thought she could be of some
definite use she would tell where she really got the
pin.</p>
<p>“What? What would you give me?” Melissa
asked craftily.</p>
<p>“What would you like—jewelry?” Terry questioned
with a quiet sort of emphasis on the last
word.</p>
<p>“Jewelry?” Melissa’s eyes lit up greedily. “I got
some jewelry now that’d be better than any you
could give me. No, you better not come along. I got
to be goin’ home.”</p>
<p>“How could you have?” Terry asked, deliberately
trying to antagonize the girl. “The only jewelry
you ever got was that old bracelet Sim gave
you weeks ago and that your father made you give
back.”</p>
<p>“It is not,” Melissa insisted. “I’ve got——No,
I won’t tell you; you’re just jealous.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_201">[201]</div>
<p>“Come on, Melissa, be a sport. You tell me about
the secret you know and I’ll tell you something I
know about you. Something fine. You’ll love it.
What do you say, is it a bargain?”</p>
<p>Terry waited. It would never do to rush things.
If Melissa got stubborn it would be hopeless, and
Terry was almost positive, now, that the queer girl
was in possession of something.</p>
<p>Melissa looked at her uninvited guest in the boat
distrustfully. There was no reason for not trusting
her. The three girls had been very kind to her this
summer and had tried to give her the bracelet. Still,
she hesitated. Her father was also to be reckoned
with. What would be his attitude? Oh, well, Melissa
mentally shrugged.</p>
<p>“I did take the pin, but no one was there, and I
knew the man wouldn’t care,” Melissa said, watching
Terry closely.</p>
<p>“When, Melissa? When did you take it?” Terry
asked, hoping that the girl could throw some light
on Dimitri’s disappearance.</p>
<p>“One day when the man was out with his dog,
painting,” Melissa replied. “I sneaked in just to
have a look around. Some of the village people said
he might be a spy, so I went over to see what a spy
was. What is a spy, anyway?” Melissa asked, forgetting
for the minute that she had just told Terry
that the pin had not been found after all.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_202">[202]</div>
<p>“Never mind that. Dimitri’s not a spy. That’s
foolish. Tell me the secret you know.” Terry was
becoming impatient.</p>
<p>Melissa hedged. This girl was too wise. Melissa’s
father might punish her severely, send her away,
even, where she’d have to dress up and wear shoes
in hot weather and do other uncomfortable things.</p>
<p>“You won’t tell my father?” Melissa begged
Terry.</p>
<p>“Not if you don’t want me to,” Terry replied.</p>
<p>“Well,” Melissa began, “over at my house I’ve
got the prettiest box!”</p>
<p>Terry jumped. The snuffbox! But she mustn’t
seem too surprised.</p>
<p>“You have? Tell me about it. I won’t tell your
father,” Terry said, smiling confidentially.</p>
<p>“I got it on the houseboat. It was in a little closet
on the wall and I broke the door open to see it,”
Melissa confessed, now trusting Terry completely.</p>
<p>“But how did you know it was there?” asked
Terry.</p>
<p>“The pretty lady told me about it. She gave me a
dollar to bring it to her, but after I found it, I liked
it so much I couldn’t bear to give it up,” Melissa
explained.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_203">[203]</div>
<p>“But don’t you know, Melissa, that you shouldn’t
take things that belong to other people?” Terry
said gently.</p>
<p>“This was only a yellow box, and the lady said it
was hers, anyway.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t, Melissa. It was Dimitri’s, and the
lady had no right to it. Where is it now?”</p>
<p>“I’ve got it safe,” the girl said briefly.</p>
<p>“Melissa,” began Terry in a tone that commanded
attention, “that was a very wrong and dangerous
thing to do, to take that box. I want you to
come back with me, while I explain to my friends
and the Russian man’s brother just what happened.
Then I want you to go over to your house with us
and give back the box.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no,” pleaded Melissa. “I won’t do it. My
father would do something awful to me if I did.”</p>
<p>“You’ve got to. If you don’t,” threatened Terry,
“you’ll probably be arrested, and then what will become
of you?”</p>
<p>Melissa’s eyes widened with fright. “Arrested?”
she echoed dully.</p>
<p>Terry nodded her head.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_204">[204]</div>
<p>“You better come back with me,” she said quietly.
Slowly Melissa began to turn the boat. She was cornered,
and she knew it. Terry spoke quietly as they
rowed back to the cottage, explaining to the worried
girl that she and her friends would see that no
harm came to her. So well did she plead that by the
time they docked the boat, Melissa had grown confident,
and even eager to do Terry’s bidding.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_205">[205]</div>
<h2 id="c28"><br />CHAPTER XXVIII
<br />Driven Away</h2>
<p>A great deal of tact was necessary to keep Melissa
in a helpful frame of mind. One careless word,
and Terry knew Melissa would run. So, hoping her
chums would understand, she walked back to the
house, talking cheerfully to the girl as they went.</p>
<p>“Melissa is going to help us find the snuffbox,”
Terry announced to the astonished group that
awaited them on the porch. “She knows where it is,
and she’s going to take us over to her house for it.”</p>
<p>Frantic looks and powerful concentration seemed
to do the trick, for Arden fell in with Terry’s plan.</p>
<p>“That’s fine, Melissa,” Arden complimented her.
“Let’s start at once, before it gets too dark. Terry,
you and Melissa go together, and the rest of us will
follow in our boat.”</p>
<p>“Give her back the pin, at least for a time,” suggested
Arden. “It will make her trust us more.”</p>
<p>“Not a bad idea,” agreed Terry. “I will.”</p>
<p>“Yes, do,” said Serge in a low voice.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_206">[206]</div>
<p>Terry slipped the pin back to Melissa, and she
and the girl started for the boats.</p>
<p>“All right, Mother?” Terry asked. “Do you
want to come too?”</p>
<p>“No,” replied Mrs. Landry. “I might be of some
use here. Come back as quickly as you can, and good
luck to you.”</p>
<p>They needed no urging, and with Melissa leading
and the others following, they crossed the peaceful
bay and landed close to the pitiful shack that Melissa
called “home.”</p>
<p>“It’s in my room,” the girl told them, proud in
her simple way to be the center of so much excitement.</p>
<p>“You show us,” Arden urged.</p>
<p>Melissa entered the solitary house, the door of
which swung loosely on its hinges. The front room,
furnished with an unpainted wooden table and three
rickety chairs, was dreary and uninviting. The girl,
clumping along in the boots which were much too
large for her, entered a small room to one side. It
was little bigger than a large closet with a white-painted
bed and an old bureau topped by a cracked
looking glass.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_207">[207]</div>
<p>After much shaking and pulling, Melissa succeeded
in opening the top drawer. She rummaged
under some old clothes and thrust her hands far
back in the bureau.</p>
<p>Suddenly, with an unbelieving look on her face,
she turned to the little group crowded in the narrow
doorway.</p>
<p>“It’s gone!” she exclaimed. “The box, the pretty
yellow one that I put there myself, is gone!”</p>
<p>Was it a trick that Melissa had played on them?
Or had Terry argued so successfully that the girl
had actually come to believe she really did possess
the box?</p>
<p>“Are you sure you had it?” Arden asked gently.
“When did you see it last?”</p>
<p>“This morning I took it out to look at it,” Melissa
replied slowly.</p>
<p>“What did it look like?” Terry asked, not quite
believing that Melissa ever had it now.</p>
<p>“It had a little bird on and the prettiest shiny
stones all around the edge,” Melissa answered woefully.
“Oh, I did like it so much! It was so pretty!”</p>
<p>The girls fell silent. They had met another stone
wall. They had neither Dimitri nor the snuffbox.
They were as much in the dark as ever.</p>
<p>“But, Melissa,” Sim began, “what could have
happened to it?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Melissa replied slowly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_208">[208]</div>
<p>They looked curiously at the bare little room.
Poor child, it was not surprising that she loved
bright shiny things so much. In a place such as this
was, anyone would crave relief from its drabness.</p>
<p>Arden turned to go, and the others were about to
follow when they were halted by the sound of heavy
footsteps hastening up the wooden steps that led
into the house.</p>
<p>The three girls drew together. Serge stepped forward
as though to protect them.</p>
<p>“It’s Pa,” Melissa said, looking fearfully at
them.</p>
<p>“What’s going on in here?” an angry voice was
heard before they saw the owner of it.</p>
<p>Melissa shrank back to the wall between the bed
and bureau.</p>
<p>“What are you people doing here? Who let you
in here?” It was George Clayton, wildly angry at
this invasion of his property.</p>
<p>“We came by ourselves,” Terry said, boldly anxious
to keep her pledge with Melissa.</p>
<p>“You did! Well, I advise you to go by yourselves
before I run you off!” Clayton bellowed, reaching
for a shotgun on the wall.</p>
<p>“Now, see here, Clayton,” Serge began, standing
fearlessly before the angry man. “Be careful how
you handle that gun. You don’t want to do anything
you might be sorry for later.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_209">[209]</div>
<p>“I know what I’m doing,” Melissa’s father insisted.
“You people get out of here! This is my
property. You’ve got to get a warrant before you
can come snooping around my place!”</p>
<p>“All right, we’ll go,” Serge said in a low voice.
“But you watch your step. I’ve heard you’re not
very popular in these parts.”</p>
<p>Clayton made an angry motion as though to
strike Serge, but with an effort controlled himself
and, spluttering and fuming, literally drove them
from the shack.</p>
<p>They all piled into the little rowboat and made
their way slowly back across the bay, disappointed
and defeated, hardly knowing what to say—what to
believe.</p>
<p>Serge decided to go at once back to New York.</p>
<p>“Dimitri might have gone to my place. I will get
in touch with you tomorrow and let you know,” he
said and, not going into the house again, he thanked
Mrs. Landry, who was anxiously waiting at the
small dock and, climbing in his car, drove quickly
out of sight.</p>
<p>For a little while there was silence among them.
Even Sim, who often could find humor in matters
where others could not, had nothing to say. Mrs.
Landry looked at the faces of the girls, and, guessing
their thoughts, said:</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_210">[210]</div>
<p>“Never mind, my dears. It isn’t your fault.”</p>
<p>“But I did so hope something would come of
this,” said Terry. “After getting Melissa to admit
she had the box, then not to find it!”</p>
<p>“Do you really think she had it?” asked Arden.</p>
<p>“That’s hard to answer,” Terry replied. “I don’t
see why she would want to deceive us. She described
the cupboard, told how she slipped aboard the houseboat
while Dimitri was out in the marsh, painting,
and we all know she’s crazy about such objects as
that bright and beautiful snuffbox.”</p>
<p>“And to think it may be gone forever,” sighed
Sim.</p>
<p>“We’re not going to let it be lost forever!” suddenly
declared Arden.</p>
<p>“What are you going to do about it?” challenged
Terry.</p>
<p>“I’m going to see to it that a thorough search is
made of that shack, in spite of George Clayton!”
Arden’s head went up bravely, and there was a determined
look in her eyes.</p>
<p>“How?” questioned Terry.</p>
<p>“With the help of the police or that detective
woman, Emma Tash!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_211">[211]</div>
<p>“I think it is time you got the authorities more
actively interested, my dears,” said Mrs. Landry,
who had heard, with some alarm, the actions of the
crabber in the matter of the shotgun. “That man
must be curbed. He is standing in the way of good
to his daughter. If we could get in touch with Emma
Tash she might bring some man with her who would
proceed in spite of Clayton and his gun. This father
of Melissa’s may be just ‘bluffing,’ as the boys say.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t Miss Tash leave you her address?” asked
Arden.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Mrs. Landry answered, “she did. But it
may take a few days to get in communication with
her and get her down here. Instead of her, I would
suggest our local chief.”</p>
<p>“Rufus Reilly?” asked Sim. “Oh, my goodness,
he and his duck that can’t fly on one leg!”</p>
<p>“Besides,” added Terry, “he claims to have been
working on the case, but all he does is to tinker with
that old car.”</p>
<p>“Still,” decided Arden, “I think we should go to
him again. It is up to him to do something. If we
bring another officer here, he would first go to Mr.
Reilly. I believe that is police law. So let’s go see
our proverb-splitting chief and tell him what happened
today. We can say we feel sure the stolen
snuffbox is in the shack, and he can get a search warrant
if he needs to.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_212">[212]</div>
<p>“I am coming around to your way of thinking,
Arden,” admitted Sim. “Perhaps, when the chief
hears about Clayton’s gun, it will stir him up to
something like fighting rage, and we’ll get some
action.”</p>
<p>“Well, then, let’s,” agreed Terry. “It’s too late
now, but we’ll get the chief to go to the shack the
first thing in the morning.”</p>
<p>However, when morning came, after an anxious
night in which no news came of the missing artist,
Mrs. Landry decided it might be well to wait for
another day.</p>
<p>“Dimitri’s brother may learn something in New
York,” she said, “and that may make it needless to
go and beard this Clayton boor in his shack.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I suppose waiting another day will do no
harm,” Arden agreed. “But I don’t believe Dimitri
is in New York or has his box. He would not be
where he is, a free agent, without sending some
word to his brother Serge, at least, about himself.
No, Dimitri is where he can’t get word to his
friends.”</p>
<p>“And where do you think that place is?” asked
Sim.</p>
<p>Arden shrugged her shoulders in a hopeless negative.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_213">[213]</div>
<p>Time hanging heavy on their hands, the girls paid
another visit to the houseboat but did not go on
board. There was no sign of life about the <i>Merry
Jane</i> save for Tania. She was shut up in what
amounted to a kennel on the outside narrow deck,
where the girls had put her on their last visit. There
was plenty of food and water.</p>
<p>Poor Tania whined pitifully when she found that
her friends were not coming to see her and departed
without taking her with them.</p>
<p>“She misses Dimitri terribly,” said Arden.</p>
<p>“Yes,” agreed Sim.</p>
<p>The day passed and no word came from Serge.
Later it developed that he was so frantically going
from one to another of the friends of his brother
in New York, a fruitless search, that he forgot all
about his promise to communicate with the girls.</p>
<p>“Well, this settles it!” declared Arden as they
were at breakfast the second day after the visit of
Serge. The morning mail had come but brought no
news. “I’m going to get the chief and visit Melissa
and her father again.”</p>
<p>“Do you mean you’re going with him?” asked
Terry.</p>
<p>“Yes. I think we should all go, I mean we three,
don’t you, Mrs. Landry?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_214">[214]</div>
<p>“Well, if there’s danger—but then I hardly believe
there will be if you have the chief with you.
Yes, go, by all means.”</p>
<p>“This is going to be a real expedition!” declared
Terry as she drove her chums over to the village,
parked their car near the chief’s garage, and walked
to where they found the officer still tinkering with
his old auto.</p>
<p>“Good-morning, girls,” he greeted them, wiping
a smudge of oil off his face. “You see I’m busy as
usual, time and tide in a long race, you know,” and
the gold tooth grinned at them cheerfully.</p>
<p>“Mr. Reilly, can you come with us at once?”
asked Arden in businesslike tones. “There may be
an arrest to make.”</p>
<p>“An arrest?” The chief showed new interest.</p>
<p>“Yes. Over at the Clayton shack. It’s quite a
story.”</p>
<p>The chief, when he heard it, could not but admit
it was. There was a new air about him now. He
seemed much more in earnest than at any time since
Dimitri Uzlov had been missing at Marshlands.</p>
<p>“I’ll be with you in a few minutes, girls,” the chief
said. “Just as soon as I can wash up and pin my
badge on. Then we’ll get in my motorboat and ride
over to see this Mr. Clayton.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_215">[215]</div>
<p>“How would it be,” suggested Terry, “if you
took us back to our dock in your boat and then we
picked up our rowboat? You could tow us in that
to the Clayton shack.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I could do that,” the chief agreed. “It’s a
little ways from here to where my motorboat is
docked, and my car isn’t running yet, but a walk
won’t hurt none of us.”</p>
<p>“We can all go to your dock in our car,” Terry
said.</p>
<p>“Sure enough. Didn’t think of that. Well, we’ll
go see this Clayton. So he was going for his gun,
was he? I’ll see about that! Don’t give up the ship
and keep your powder dry. Be with you in two
shakes of a lamb’s tail.” He was as good as his word,
soon coming out of his garage office with a clean
face and a badge on his coat. It did not take long to
drive to the dock where the chief kept his motorboat
tied. The girls got in and were soon chugging
on their way to “Buckingham Palace.” Mrs. Landry
was rather surprised to see them back so soon,
but agreed, after an explanation had been made,
that it would be wise to take two boats.</p>
<p>“You never can tell what may happen,” she said.</p>
<p>“True enough, as the old lady said when she
kissed the cow,” chuckled the chief. “My boat isn’t
very good to look at, and we might get stalled. In
which case a rowboat would be as handy as a pocket
on the end of a dog’s tail.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_216">[216]</div>
<p>His craft, if not very presentable, had speed, and
they went along rapidly. As they passed close to the
<i>Merry Jane</i>, Tania either saw, heard, or scented
them, for she began to bark in a friendly way.</p>
<p>“Oh, that poor dog!” exclaimed Arden. “Let’s
take her with us!”</p>
<p>“We could,” agreed Sim.</p>
<p>“It might be a good thing,” said Terry. “She’s a
sort of hound, you know.”</p>
<p>“And you think maybe she can smell out where
Melissa has hid the snuffbox!” chuckled the chief.
“But a dog is always a good thing to have on a case
like this. Two strings to your rubber boot, you
know. We’ll get her.”</p>
<p>Tania was frantic with joy to be among her
friends again and curled up on the stern seat with
Arden as the chief again started his boat across the
bay.</p>
<p>They were not long in coming in sight of the
Clayton shack. The chief wasted no time in preliminaries
but steered at once for the ramshackle
old dock where he made his craft fast. Then he assisted
the girls to tie theirs, and they got out, Tania
following them and sniffing with her pointed nose in
the direction of the gloomy house.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_217">[217]</div>
<p>“Perhaps we had better be a bit cautious,” suggested
Terry somewhat timidly. “This man may
rush out at us.”</p>
<p>“What puzzles me,” said the chief, “is why he
hasn’t hailed us before this. Accordin’ to what you
told me, he ordered you off before, without you havin’
a chance to set foot on his land.”</p>
<p>“Yes, he did,” said Terry. “It is rather strange
no one appears.”</p>
<p>The shack showed no sign of life in or about it.</p>
<p>“I’ll give him a hail,” suggested the chief. And
he roared out: “Clayton, where are you? Here’s
company! Come out, but if you bring a gun it won’t
be healthy for you!”</p>
<p>There was no answer to this challenge.</p>
<p>Tania barked. Still all was silent about the place.</p>
<p>“I’m going in,” the chief suddenly decided. “You
girls wait for me here.” He looked to make sure
that his badge of office was conspicuous and pushed
open the door. It was not locked.</p>
<p>The girls were a little nervous as the chief disappeared
inside. But still there was no sound. The
silence was almost terrifying. The chief came out
in a few minutes to say:</p>
<p>“I can’t seem to find anybody.”</p>
<p>“I think you had better look again and go in
every room,” said Arden. Her voice was firm.
“There must be someone.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_218">[218]</div>
<p>“All right, I’ll take another look,” assented the
chief. “No trouble to show goods and some pitchers
go to the well too often.”</p>
<p>Again he disappeared inside the place.</p>
<p>Again portentous silence held them all in its grip.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_219">[219]</div>
<h2 id="c29"><br />CHAPTER XXIX
<br />The Barking of Tania</h2>
<p>Chief Reilly came out of the poor little house, a
veritable shack it was, shaking his head.</p>
<p>“I suppose,” remarked Sim in an aside to Arden,
“he is going to say ‘it’s a long road without a cat in
the attic,’ or something equally brilliant.”</p>
<p>“He might,” remarked Terry, “propose that the
race is not always to the swift but there are none so
blind as those who won’t eat.”</p>
<p>“Meaning what?” asked Arden.</p>
<p>“That we’ve drawn a blank,” said Sim.</p>
<p>She was right. For the first impression, gathered
on arrival at the home of the Claytons, that no one
was there, was borne out as the chief emerged a
second time from an inspection of the premises.</p>
<p>“Can’t find anybody,” he announced with a flourish
of his big red hands.</p>
<p>“You mean there’s nobody home?” asked Terry.</p>
<p>“That’s about it,” said Mr. Reilly. “Nobody
home. You can’t get anything out of an empty bag
except dust, you know.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_220">[220]</div>
<p>“And I suppose there was plenty of dust?” suggested
Sim.</p>
<p>“Well, not so much as you’d think for,” said the
officer and garage owner. “Melissa must have
humped herself, for the old shack was pretty clean.
Case of pot calling the kettle black, you know.”</p>
<p>“Poor kid! I guess she had her own troubles,”
remarked Arden. “I wonder where her father took
her and why?”</p>
<p>“Maybe we’ll know that when we find Dimitri,”
suggested Terry.</p>
<p>“If we ever do,” voiced Sim.</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t be Mrs. Gloom!” exclaimed Arden.
“Of course we’ll find him.”</p>
<p>“And find out why he painted such a lovely picture
of you,” said Terry.</p>
<p>“Silly!” murmured Arden as she blushed beneath
her tan. But it was obvious that she was as curious
as were her chums about the mysterious portrait.</p>
<p>“Well, I guess we’ve found out all we can here,
which is about less than nothing with a hole in the
middle,” said the chief, as he came back from a
walk about the place. “None of the Claytons are
here. Not that there’s many in this branch of the
family—jest Melissa and her dad. But they’re
gone.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_221">[221]</div>
<p>Suddenly Arden had a thought. She expressed it
to Sim and Terry while the chief was looking into a
rain-water barrel, as if he might find the missing
Dimitri there. Arden said:</p>
<p>“I think we ought to tell him about the policewoman.”</p>
<p>“Emma Tash,” murmured Sim.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Terry. “I think we had.”</p>
<p>“Mr. Reilly,” began Arden, after receiving this
confirmation, “we have something to tell you.”</p>
<p>“You ain’t got that Russian stranger hid away
with that there gold snuffbox, have you?” chuckled
the chief. “Like a hen on a wet griddle, you know.”</p>
<p>“Oh, he’ll be the death of me,” sighed Sim.</p>
<p>“It’s about Melissa,” said Arden, and then, much
to the astonishment of the chief, the girls told him
about the visit of the detective woman and the happier
prospects for the unfortunate girl.</p>
<p>“I always knowed there was something more than
met the eye in them Claytons,” said the chief.
“Hum! Melissa with a rich aunt that wants to send
her to school and make her into a lady. Well, I hope
she does. Melissa is a good girl in spite of being a
bit queer. She’s the champion swimmer around
here.”</p>
<p>“Maybe she might give me points,” said Sim.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_222">[222]</div>
<p>“Oh, yes, she’s a natural swimmer,” went on the
chief, taking no notice of this aside. “And a good
girl. Loves bright things—birds and flowers. More
than once I’ve seen her sitting on a fence where
somebody had a garden full of red poppies, looking
at ’em to beat the band. Her old man, though—there’s
a case! All he cares about are crabs, lobsters,
and fish.”</p>
<p>“Did you ever hear,” asked Arden, thinking to
confirm what Emma Tash had said, “that Melissa’s
mother came of a good family?”</p>
<p>“It wouldn’t have to be very good to beat the
Clayton end of it,” said Mr. Reilly. “Yes, Mrs.
Clayton was a different breed. Give a dog a bad
name and throw him a bone,” he chuckled. “Yes,
Melissa’s mother made a bad match of it. I hope
this here detective woman can do something for the
poor kid.”</p>
<p>“Maybe she has,” said Terry suddenly.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” asked Sim.</p>
<p>“Maybe Emma Tash has been here without us
knowing it and has taken Melissa away,” explained
Terry. “That detective woman was smart. She may
have come here, met George Clayton and Melissa,
and have prevailed on him to let her take the girl.
That would account for their being gone now.”</p>
<p>For a moment they were inclined to accept this
theory. Then Arden, as usual putting her finger on
the critical point, said:</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_223">[223]</div>
<p>“It wouldn’t account, though, for the barking of
Tania.”</p>
<p>For the first time they all realized that the dog
was barking with an unusual note in the tone and
that she kept it up almost continuously. Up to this
moment they had been so engrossed with approaching
the shack without inciting George Clayton to
the point of desperate resistance that they had not
paid much attention to Tania.</p>
<p>Now they noticed that the dog was running about
the shack in a most excited manner, scarcely ceasing
her growls and barks. And, now that their attention
was fixed on her, they saw that she stopped
at a certain cellar window and barked there with
unusual vigor.</p>
<p>“The barking of Tania,” murmured Sim. “No,
the taking away of Melissa by the detective woman,
with her father’s consent, and his desertion of his
home, would not account for the barking of Tania.
Arden, I think we are going to make a discovery—a
big discovery.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” faltered Terry. “Do you
think Dimitri——” She could not finish. She dared
not finish. But the others knew what she had in
mind.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_224">[224]</div>
<p>“Now you speak of it,” said the chief, “that dog
is making quite a row. Barking dogs, you know,
catch no cats. But we’ll see what’s up.”</p>
<p>“You think, don’t you, Sim,” said Arden, “that
there is something in the cellar?”</p>
<p>“I can’t help but think that, from the way Tania
acts. Look at her now, barking into the window.”</p>
<p>It was as Sim said. The dog was trying almost to
thrust her pointed muzzle into the glass.</p>
<p>“Maybe Clayton and Melissa are hiding there,”
said Terry. “You didn’t go down cellar, did you,
Mr. Reilly?”</p>
<p>“No, I didn’t. Didn’t see any use. But if you think
we’d better, why, I got a flashlight in my boat.”</p>
<p>“I think we had better,” said Arden.</p>
<p>“Then we will. Nothing like eating your cake
and having your bread,” the chief declared. “Wait
a minute.”</p>
<p>He tried to run down to his motorboat but made
a bad job of that, for he only waddled. However,
he soon came back with the flashlight. Meanwhile
Tania had not ceased her barking. She no longer
ran frantically about the shack. She remained at the
one window and barked continuously.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_225">[225]</div>
<p>“Now, girls,” said the chief as he again started
into the house, “there’s no use of you running into
any danger. I don’t say there <i>is</i> danger but if it’s
<i>there</i> I ain’t going to let you run your pretty necks
into no noose. I’m paid for this work and I’ll do it.
Nobody can ever say Rufus Reilly let anybody else
pull his pancakes out of the ice box. I’ll go down in
that cellar alone.”</p>
<p>“But if Clayton is there,” said Arden, “and starts
to fight you——”</p>
<p>“I’ve got a gun,” said the chief, showing an automatic.
“I can fight as good as the next one if I have
to, but I don’t think I’ll have to. If I do, well,
you’re outside here to go git help. You know what
I mean.” A gold-toothed smile.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Terry. “If we hear shooting, or any
calls for help from the cellar, we’ll take your motorboat
and go get assistance. I can run a boat.”</p>
<p>“That’s the idea,” said the chief. “You go right
back to town and get Henry Doremus and Ike Tantker.
They’re deputy constables, and you can generally
find ’em around my garage. If they ain’t there,
Ted Rollaby, my mechanic, will tell you what to do.
Now I’m goin’ in.”</p>
<p>There was an outside slanting door leading down
into the cellar. The chief pulled this up, hooked it
into place, and then, with his flashlight in one hand
and his automatic in the other, started down the
half-rotten wooden steps.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_226">[226]</div>
<p>He had no sooner started down than Tania, deserting
her barking post at the window, rushed past
him and was into the dark musty cellar ahead of
him.</p>
<p>“Oh,” murmured Arden, “I’m glad the dog went
down.”</p>
<p>“So am I,” said Sim. “I wouldn’t want anything
to happen to the funny old chief, even if he does
drive me crazy with his proverbs.”</p>
<p>“What do you think he’ll find?” asked Terry.</p>
<p>Before either of her chums could hazard a guess
they all heard, above the frantic barking of Tania,
the chief’s voice shouting:</p>
<p>“I’ve got him! I’ve found him! Here he is, tied
up like a bag of potatoes in the cellar. I’ve found
Mr. Uzlov!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_227">[227]</div>
<h2 id="c30"><br />CHAPTER XXX
<br />All Is Well</h2>
<p>Gazing with fear-widened eyes at one another,
the three girls waited for what might happen next.</p>
<p>The chief had found the man missing from
Marshlands; but in what condition? The worst
might have happened, for it was now obvious that
Dimitri had been the prisoner of George Clayton
ever since the mysterious disappearance from the
<i>Merry Jane</i>.</p>
<p>“Oh,” murmured Arden, “if he is——”</p>
<p>She could not finish.</p>
<p>“I—I feel sort of funny,” said Terry.</p>
<p>“Girl, if you pass out on us now I’ll never speak
to you again as long as I live!” threatened Sim.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m all right—I guess,” Terry said.
“But——”</p>
<p>She was interrupted by the voice of Chief Reilly
coming, muffled, from the cellar.</p>
<p>“Guess maybe you girls had better come down
here,” he called. “I might need your testimony for
evidence.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_228">[228]</div>
<p>“Oh!” almost shouted Arden. “Is he——”</p>
<p>“Mr. Uzlov is all right. He’s alive, though I
can’t say he’s very well,” went on the chief. “He’s
bound and gagged and all knocked out, but I can’t
see anything very wrong. There’s so many ropes on
him I’ll need help in getting them off quick. But I
want you to see him so you can testify against this
rat of a Clayton. Nasty piece of business, if you ask
me.”</p>
<p>The girls could hear Tania now joyously whimpering.
The dog no longer barked fiercely. It was
evident she was with her beloved master whom she
found to be alive, at least.</p>
<p>Thus reassured, the three descended the outside
cellar steps. The chief held his torch for them to
see, and by its light they noted that he had already
started on the work of rescue. A cloth that had
been bound around the Russian’s mouth had been
taken off. But he was still trussed up.</p>
<p>With a slash of his knife, while Arden held the
light, the chief released the roped hands. And as
Dimitri rubbed his numbed lips he said weakly:</p>
<p>“So you’ve come at last.”</p>
<p>“Oh, if we had only guessed this before!” exclaimed
Arden.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_229">[229]</div>
<p>“Still, you are in good time. I am not harmed,”
said Dimitri. Then he could talk no longer, for
Tania was frantically licking his face.</p>
<p>With the help of the girls, one of whom held the
light while the chief and the others loosed the binding
strands, Dimitri Uzlov was soon set free. He
was a little weak in his legs, but after stamping
about managed to regain the use of them and was
able to leave the cellar.</p>
<p>He had been found in a sort of closet in one corner,
small and dark, with only the cracks around the
sealed window for ventilation.</p>
<p>“I seen that shut closet door as soon as I got
down here,” said the chief as they all went into the
upper sunlight. “I’d ’a’ knowed somebody was in
that closet even if the dog hadn’t rushed for it like—well,
like a mouse goin’ for cheese in a trap,” he
finished.</p>
<p>“It is good to be out again,” said Dimitri as he
paused at the top of the steps and took a long deep
breath. “I have been in the dark too long.”</p>
<p>“But what happened?”</p>
<p>“How did he get you?”</p>
<p>“Did he harm you?”</p>
<p>“Where is he now, and Melissa?”</p>
<p>The girls’ questions came trippingly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_230">[230]</div>
<p>“I think it is best if I go back to my houseboat
and there tell you the story,” said the artist. “Perhaps
there is even left some tea—and I should
dearly love a cup of tea. This Clayton jailer gave
me nothing but coffee. I am so sick of it!”</p>
<p>“There is tea left,” said Arden.</p>
<p>“That is good. I suppose,” and his voice faltered,
“that my precious box is not left. They must have
taken that.”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid they did,” said Arden.</p>
<p>“Well, it is fate! I am glad at least to be alive,”
and Dimitri shrugged his shoulders with resignation.</p>
<p>“You all better get in my boat and leave yours
here until later,” said the chief when it was found
that Dimitri, after a long drink of water, was able
to walk with more ease. “We’ll make better time
that way. More haste the quicker you get over it.”</p>
<p>Sim shook her fist at him behind his back.</p>
<p>They all piled into the motorboat, Tania never
leaving her master’s side, and in a short time they
were at the <i>Merry Jane</i>. After it was seen that Dimitri,
though obviously suffering from neglect, was
not seriously harmed, it came to Arden’s mind that
she and her chums must make a confession.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_231">[231]</div>
<p>They had looked at the forbidden picture. It was
very likely that Dimitri’s trained vision would detect
that the cloth had been removed and put back.
Of course, he might think Clayton had done it, but
it was better to tell. So Arden said:</p>
<p>“We discovered your secret.”</p>
<p>“My secret?” He appeared not to understand.</p>
<p>“That picture,” she added. “We looked at it.”</p>
<p>The whiteness of Dimitri’s face, blanched by
many days of confinement in a dark cellar, was
changed to a deep red as he murmured:</p>
<p>“I hope you do not think me too presumptuous.”</p>
<p>“It is lovely!” declared Sim.</p>
<p>“A beautiful picture,” said Terry.</p>
<p>“And you—have you nothing to say in forgiveness?”
He was looking straight at Arden.</p>
<p>“Oh, I think it is wonderful,” she said. “There
is no need of pardon. But it is too beautiful! I
never——”</p>
<p>“It is not half good enough!” he interrupted.
“It was only from memory. Perhaps you will do me
the honor to sit for me that I may properly complete
it.”</p>
<p>“If Daddy and Mother consent,” she said.</p>
<p>“As if they wouldn’t!” said Sim.</p>
<p>They were at the houseboat now. It seemed silent
and deserted, but the chief said:</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_232">[232]</div>
<p>“Might as well take precautions. Nobody ever
yet died of a broken neck by drinking milk. I’ll go
aboard first.”</p>
<p>“And if he utters another of his famous sayings
I’ll choke him with my handkerchief!” hissed Sim.</p>
<p>The silence of Tania as they approached close to
the <i>Merry Jane</i> was fairly conclusive evidence that
no strangers were aboard. They walked confidently
up the little gangplank and, allowing Dimitri to
take the lead, followed him into the living room.</p>
<p>He went through the curtains to the broken cupboard,
and as they all stood grouped behind him
they saw him, after a moment of hesitation, put his
hand in and take out an object. Then they heard his
delighted cry:</p>
<p>“Here it is! My box! And not harmed in the
least. Wait!”</p>
<p>Quickly he pressed the spring, took out the key,
and wound up the mechanism. Suddenly the jeweled
bird began to sing. A fairy hymn of victory.</p>
<p>“But how did it get here?” asked Arden.</p>
<p>“The mystery is solved—but how?” questioned
Terry.</p>
<p>“This has got my goat,” admitted the chief.
“There’s no fool like a spring chicken,” he added,
showing his gold tooth in a wide grin.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_233">[233]</div>
<p>“I think this may explain matters,” remarked Dimitri
as he again put his hand into the shattered
cupboard and brought out several sheets of paper.
He glanced over them and said: “It is a confession
from this George Clayton—he who caught me and
held me prisoner. It perhaps tells everything, my
friends.”</p>
<p>It did. George Clayton, crabber, lobsterman, and
fisher, proved to be more of a scholar than anyone
had ever suspected. He wrote a good hand, though
some of the words were rather shaky.</p>
<p><i>“‘First of all,’”</i>
the written sheets revealed, <i>“‘I
want to let the girls, who were kind to my Melissa,
know that she is in good hands. Melissa had nothing
to do with me catching Mr. Uzlov. After I got
him she wanted me to let him go, but I wouldn’t.
Melissa is a good girl. I’m going to let her aunt
have her and bring her up right. A woman named
Emma Tash came to my place the other day,
though I told her to get out, but she didn’t.’”</i></p>
<p>“Emma Tash just wouldn’t do that a second
time,” said Terry, recalling the crabbing party.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_234">[234]</div>
<p><i>“‘So I had a talk with her,’”</i> Dimitri read on
from the letter, <i>“‘and I decided it wasn’t right to
Melissa to keep her here with me. Not that I’m going
to be here any more. I’m leaving. But before I
left I told this Emma Tash she could take Melissa
and bring her up the way her aunt wants her
brought up. So that woman took her off.’”</i></p>
<p>“Then the poor child will have something in life
after all,” murmured Arden. “I’m so glad!”</p>
<p>“She may even become a champion swimmer,”
suggested Sim.</p>
<p>“Oh, you and your swimming,” laughed Terry.
“Let’s find out about the snuffbox.”</p>
<p>“That’s right here,” said Mr. Uzlov. He read
on:</p>
<p><i>“‘Melissa has always been different from other
girls. Mrs. Landry and the three young ladies know
that. One day Melissa came home to me with this
gold box that I’m leaving back in your cupboard.
She told me she had broken open your cupboard and
taken it from your houseboat, Mr. Uzlov. Melissa
always loved bright things. Well, I was struck all of
a heap when I saw she had it. I didn’t know what to
do. In a way it was stealing, but not for Melissa.
She didn’t mean to steal it. She just couldn’t help
taking it once she saw it. I love my daughter. Nobody
shall ever say I don’t. Anyhow, here’s your
gold box back and I’m going to clear out and
Melissa has gone with that good detective woman.
That’s all. From George Clayton.’”</i></p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_235">[235]</div>
<p>There was a little silence following the reading
of the strange letter.</p>
<p>“But it isn’t all,” said Arden, looking at Dimitri.
“How did he get you and hold you a prisoner?”</p>
<p>“I suppose that is my part to explain,” said
Dimitri. “Well, it shall not take me long. First we
shall begin with Olga.”</p>
<p>“Who is she?” burst out Sim impulsively.</p>
<p>“She is my talented but spendthrift sister,” said
Dimitri with a little embarrassed laugh. “She always
claimed to have an interest, and right, in the
snuffbox, which once belonged to the late lamented
Czar, but that was not so. I mean she had no interest
in it. That box was mine alone. That is what we
often quarreled about. My brother Serge, with
whom you say you got in touch, can bear me out in
this. I sent for him when Olga became—well, rather
troublesome,” he said with a smile.</p>
<p>“So,” he resumed, “one day I came back here,
after having been out in the marsh sketching, to
find my cupboard broken open and my box gone. I
was thunderstruck. Of course I suspected my sister.
But before I had time to do anything, this Clayton
man came on board with the box. He said his
daughter had taken my treasure, as she often did
with bright things, not knowing their value, and he
had come to restore it. He asked me not to have her
arrested or to prosecute her as he would give me the
box back.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_236">[236]</div>
<p>“But there I made a mistake.” Again Dimitri
shrugged his expressive shoulders. “I was naturally
resentful at being robbed, even by poor Melissa,
who, I understand, is not wholly responsible. So I
flared up and said the guilty must be punished; that
the law must take its course. Yes, we Russians are
too temperamental—I admit that. I said I would see
that no real harm came to the girl but that she must
be sent away and taught to do the right.”</p>
<p>“He didn’t like that, not for a cent, and it takes
ten shillings to make a pound,” interpolated Mr.
Reilly.</p>
<p>“You are right,” agreed Dimitri, evidently not
bored by this cross quotation. “At once Mr. Clayton,
what you call, flared up. Before I could avoid
him, he had attacked me. He is a big man. He had
me at a disadvantage, and before I could do anything
he had put part of a fish net over my head,
for all the world like the old Roman gladiators.”
He laughed a little, for he had brewed some tea in
his samovar, and the sipping of it appeared to revive
him more than anything else. “So he had me
helpless.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_237">[237]</div>
<p>“But Tania,” interrupted Sim. “Where was she?”</p>
<p>“He must have suddenly planned his attack,” resumed
Dimitri, “for when he carried me away, half
unconscious as I was, I dimly saw Tania tied and
lying on the deck. He must, a little while before,
have given her some drugged meat. He didn’t take
time to make friends with her and entice her away.”</p>
<p>“But just what did Clayton do to you?” asked
Terry.</p>
<p>“He threatened after the net was over me, to
take me away and keep me away if I did not promise
to let Melissa go unharmed. I would not promise. I
felt it was for the girl’s own good that I be instrumental
in sending her to some institution. I was stubborn.
He grew very angry. I tried to hit him. He hit
me. It all went black before my eyes, and when I
awoke, I was bound and my mouth was tied, in the
place where you found me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, how terrible,” said Arden.</p>
<p>“Such a brute!” declared Terry.</p>
<p>“You should have shouted for help,” argued Sim.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_238">[238]</div>
<p>“I tried to, dear young lady, but one cannot shout
with one’s mouth bundled up like a muff. So I remained
a prisoner. At times the man came down
to me and opened my mouth that I might eat, but
he stood over me with a gun so I dared not shout.
But his place is so isolated that it would have done
no good if I had. Each time he said he would let
me go if I would promise. But I would not promise.
I assure you we Russians are very stubborn.” Even
now he seemed proud of it, and the girls rather
liked him for it.</p>
<p>“You couldn’t trick him out of it?” asked Mr.
Reilly.</p>
<p>“Trick?” Dimitri questioned.</p>
<p>“I mean promise and then get out and later do as
you pleased.”</p>
<p>“The Uzlovs never do that, sir! I beg of you!
Yes!”</p>
<p>“Oh, well, all right. You can’t go two ways at the
same time,” said the chief, grinning. “What else
happened?”</p>
<p>“Nothing. I stayed in the cellar closet. Clayton
maintained me bound and gagged as you saw. Once
he came to me to say he had gone back to my boat
to restore my beautiful box. But, as he was about
to put it in the broken cupboard, he was surprised
by you girls and my brother Serge coming on board.
So Clayton leaped over the rail in great haste. I
suppose you did not then see him or my box?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_239">[239]</div>
<p>“We heard a noise,” said Terry, “and saw a man
jump off your boat, but we didn’t even guess who
was leaving the <i>Merry Jane</i> in such a rush. And to
think at that time the snuffbox was on the point of
being given back. If we only had known!”</p>
<p>“Perhaps it is as well,” said Dimitri with rather
a wan smile. “If the box had been put back then,
and my sister Olga, she of the so spendthrift habits,
had paid another visit, she might have then taken
it. And if she knew this Clayton had it, without
doubt she would have so raged at him that she
would have secured it. So it is all well as it is. Also
Mr. Clayton told me something else. It seems my
beautiful but desperate sister tried to bribe poor
Melissa, with auto rides and some money and
trinkets, to get the box for her. But that plot did
not quite come off. It may have been Olga’s talk,
speaking of my box in the cupboard, that caused
Melissa to take it for herself.”</p>
<p>“And she got your tie pin, also,” said Arden.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, but I have that back.” He showed it to
them. “Mr. Clayton gave it to me. He said his
daughter had picked it up off the floor in my paint
room. It is very possible. Poor Melissa!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_240">[240]</div>
<p>“But how did Clayton and his daughter come to
go away and leave you tied in the cellar?” asked the
chief. “If it hadn’t been for the way your dog
barked, we might never have found you.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes. That I can explain. Good Tania!” He
pulled her silky ears. “Only last night,” Dimitri
went on, “Mr. Clayton came to my prison cell and
told me he was then leaving to go to the <i>Merry
Jane</i> and, under the cover of darkness, restore my
box.”</p>
<p>“And he did!” exclaimed Sim. “Some virtue in
him, anyhow.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” agreed the artist. “Also he told me that
matters were all now settled. He did not require
any promise from me, for he told me his daughter
was going away with her aunt and he would separate
from her. Perhaps that is not so?” He looked
questioningly at the girls.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, that part is true,” said Arden.</p>
<p>“I am so glad. The poor child! Well, Mr. Clayton
went on to say that he was shuffling off, as he
expressed it, though why shuffle, I do not know.
Nevertheless, he said he and his daughter were going
away. But he felt he had to protect himself. So
he said he would not release me then. But when he
was safely far enough away, he would telephone to
you, sir, the head of the Metropolitan Police here,
and tell you to come and unbind me.” Dimitri bowed
to Mr. Reilly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_241">[241]</div>
<p>“First I heard about that,” said the chief. “I
didn’t get no telephone call. Out of sight sours no
cream.”</p>
<p>“Maybe a message has come since you started out
with us,” suggested Sim.</p>
<p>“Maybe it has; better late than never get to the
fair.”</p>
<p>“Oh——” Sim began, but she repressed herself.</p>
<p>“So you see how it all happened,” concluded
Dimitri. “I was taken unawares, kept prisoner even
when my lovely box was restored, and all because
I was such a stickler for a principle. Yes, we Russians
are very stubborn. But, to say the truth, I was
on the point of agreeing to what Mr. Clayton
wanted me to, about not being instrumental in having
his daughter sent away, when he told me he had
arranged for my release, so it is just as well. I have
my pride left.”</p>
<p>“But you must have suffered,” said Terry.</p>
<p>“One must always suffer for one’s pride. Yes?”</p>
<p>There was little else to tell. The <i>Merry Jane</i>
seemed like her old self again with Dimitri and
Tania on board. The Russian drank more tea and
offered glasses to his guests.</p>
<p>“What are you thinking of, Arden?” asked Sim,
noticing that her chum was scarcely sipping her tea
and had a dreamy far-away look in her eyes.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_242">[242]</div>
<p>“I was wondering,” came the answer, and Arden
addressed Dimitri, “if you were down in the cellar
of the Clayton shack the time we went to it, with
your brother and Melissa, to get the box she said
she had. Did you hear us talking or moving around
up above you?”</p>
<p>“No, I can’t say I did,” the Russian replied. “But
that is easily accounted for. I dozed or slept much
of the time. More than once I think Clayton put
some quieting potion in my food or drink, for I
seemed always to have a heavy, sleepy feeling. No,
I didn’t know how near you were.”</p>
<p>“If we had only known then,” said Terry, “we
could have made a thrilling rescue. But we didn’t.
Or if we had taken Tania she would have discovered
you. A pity we didn’t.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” agreed Arden.</p>
<p>“Please do not reproach yourselves,” said
Dimitri. “I am too much in your debt to allow that.
It is all over now.”</p>
<p>“Another thing I wonder about,” said Arden.
“You know when we went to the shack with Melissa
after she promised to restore the box, and it wasn’t
where she said she had hidden it, she was, or appeared
to be, greatly surprised. I wonder if she was
acting or if she knew her father had taken the treasure?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_243">[243]</div>
<p>“I don’t believe Melissa could act that much,
though she is very clever at times,” said Terry. “I
don’t believe she suspected her father had taken the
box from where she had concealed it. And it would
be well within reason, considering her character, for
her to have thought that perhaps she had forgotten
where she had put the box. You know, when we first
talked with her father, after he wouldn’t let her
keep the bracelet, he said she often took trifling
bright objects and hid them all around the house.
He said she often forgot where she had hidden her
simple treasures and would go looking for them day
after day. Then she would suddenly recall the place
and be happy again. So in this case Melissa might
have thought that, after putting the box in her poor
little bureau, she herself had removed it and
couldn’t recall where it was.”</p>
<p>“Yes, that would account for it,” Sim said.</p>
<p>“It’s very possible,” Arden agreed. “It is all very
strange. The poor girl certainly needs careful and
regular training. I’m so glad this aunt of hers remembers
her in time.”</p>
<p>“I wonder if Melissa knew you were down in the
cellar?” asked Sim.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_244">[244]</div>
<p>Dimitri shrugged his shoulders, answering: “It is
difficult to say. I don’t know just when her father
told her what he had done. I believe, though, it was
only a short time before they both left.”</p>
<p>“It’s queer Melissa didn’t discover you,” spoke
Arden.</p>
<p>“No, not when you consider what sort of a girl
she is,” replied Sim. “She was always coming and
going, wandering like a wild spirit. I don’t believe
she saw much of her father. He could easily keep
his secret from her.”</p>
<p>“I believe he did,” said the Russian. “It is strange
to think that once you were all so close to me, and
again so near to getting the box when Clayton
brought it back but was frightened away. Very
strange. But, Mr. Reilly, I am neglecting you. Let
me give you some more tea, if you please.”</p>
<p>“Not for me,” said the chief. “Coffee sets me up
better. It is the cup which cheers but doesn’t give
you the jitters.” He laughed. “And now, if there’s
no arrests to be made, I guess we might as well call
it a day, wind the clock, and put the cat out.” He
laughed again.</p>
<p>“Your brother will be anxious about you,” said
Arden. “You should let him know, Mr. Uzlov.”</p>
<p>“I shall. At once.”</p>
<p>“We are going back,” said Terry. “We could
send him a telegram. In fact, we did.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_245">[245]</div>
<p>“You did?”</p>
<p>“I mean before we found you,” and Arden’s ruse
was detailed.</p>
<p>“Oh, how clever of you, my dear young ladies.
Yes, I must let Serge know. If you will be so good.
His address——”</p>
<p>He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a paper
with the house number in Ninth Street.</p>
<p>“That will save time,” said Arden. “We will wire
him. You must need a rest.”</p>
<p>“Oh, a rest will be most delightful,” said the artist.
“I must get in condition to finish—that.” He
waved toward the covered canvas.</p>
<p>“I haven’t yet thanked you,” murmured Arden.</p>
<p>“It is I who must thank you, dear young lady,”
and he murmured something in Russian, translating:
“It is the subject, not the picture, to whom the
artist is indebted.”</p>
<p>The chief showed a desire to be gone. Doubtless
to learn if that telephone from Clayton had come
into his garage.</p>
<p>“We must be going,” said Terry.</p>
<p>“But we shall see you again,” added Sim.</p>
<p>“Marshlands will be a place for a real vacation,
now that there is no mystery to solve,” said Arden,
laughing a little.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_246">[246]</div>
<p>“I thank you.” Dimitri bowed very formally.
“And, if you will be so good, include in your telegram
to my brother the fact that I am going to sell
the snuffbox and give Olga the share she thinks she
ought to have. Poor girl! She must not suffer because
of my love for a relic. I shall sell the box.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” murmured Arden. “That lovely box!”</p>
<p>“It will still be lovely, no matter who possesses
it,” said Dimitri. “And now I must rest.”</p>
<p>Truly he was very weary, for his imprisonment
in the dank cellar had told on his nerves. But he said
he needed no attention; that he and Tania would
be all right for the remainder of their stay on the
<i>Merry Jane</i>. He did need a little fresh food, however,
and Chief Reilly promised to bring some back
in his motorboat.</p>
<p>So, with bows from Dimitri, tail-wagging from
Tania, and hand-flutterings from the girls, while the
chief demonstrated his gold-tooth grin, the visitors
came away. They went back to get Terry’s boat,
and then the girls, being towed by the chief to the
dock of “Buckingham Palace,” hastened to tell
Mrs. Landry the news.</p>
<p>“Well, fancy that!” she exclaimed. “I hope it is
all true about Melissa.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_247">[247]</div>
<p>It was true, as they learned a few days later, for
a letter arrived from Emma Tash confirming everything,
and with it there was a little note from
Melissa. Of course Emma Tash knew nothing about
the prisoner in the cellar, and Melissa was forced
into silence by her father. She did not know, as a
matter of fact, until the last few days of the imprisonment,
that her father had captured Dimitri.
If she had known, she probably would have told the
girls.</p>
<p>“But everything is all right now,” said Arden as
she and her chums sat on the warm sands after a
dip in the ocean.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Terry, “the mystery is over.”</p>
<p>“And it was a good one while it lasted,” declared
Sim. “See what Arden gets out of it.”</p>
<p>“What?” asked Arden, letting sand flow through
her tanned fingers.</p>
<p>“Lovely picture.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that!”</p>
<p>“Will your folks let you take it?” asked Terry.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes. They didn’t make any fuss at all when
I told them.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what Dimitri would have done if
they had,” laughed Sim. “Oh, he <i>is</i> such an interesting
character.”</p>
<p>“So is the chief, if you come to that,” spoke
Terry.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_248">[248]</div>
<p>“It’s a long lane that has no back door,” chuckled
Arden. And then she ducked to avoid a clam shell
tossed at her by Sim.</p>
<p>“In a way it’s rather sad,” said Terry dreamily,
after a long, thoughtful pause.</p>
<p>“What?” asked Sim.</p>
<p>“Having a mystery end. I wonder if we’ll ever be
involved in another?”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” said Sim.</p>
<p>And the girls were. In the succeeding volume,
<i>The Hermit of Pirate Light</i>, will be told what happened
when the girls spent another summer together.</p>
<p>Several times during the remainder of the season
at Marshlands, Arden and her chums visited
Dimitri at his houseboat. He finished Arden’s portrait,
which was later exhibited in New York, and
the fact was made the occasion for a little party
attended by Olga and Serge. Olga seemed a much
different person, now that she had some money
from the sale of the Czar’s snuffbox, which brought
a very large sum. Dimitri also gave his brother part
of the price. As for himself, he never seemed to
care about money.</p>
<p>“My art is everything,” he said. Truly it seemed
so.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_249">[249]</div>
<p>Chief Reilly, who was a guest at the “picture
party,” as it was called, admitted that George Clayton
had left a telephone message telling about his
prisoner and urging that he be released.</p>
<p>“But, shucks,” said the chief, “you can’t make a
silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”</p>
<p>“If he says that again,” threatened Sim, “I’ll run
home.”</p>
<p>But the chief didn’t.</p>
<p class="tbcenter"><span class="small">THE END</span></p>
<div class="img" id="endpaper"><img src="images/endpaper.jpg" alt="(Endpaper image)" width="500" height="375" /></div>
<h2><br />Transcriber’s Notes</h2>
<ul><li>The book's actual title is “Missing at Marshlands”, not “Missing at the Marshlands” as on the cover.</li>
<li>Silently corrected a few typos (but left nonstandard spelling and dialect as is).</li>
<li>Rearranged front matter to a more-logical streaming order.</li></ul>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40666 ***</div>
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