“Yes,” Sim agreed. “He’d probably go measuring footprints and looking for clues. Do you suppose he’d use bloodhounds?”
“Why not?” Terry asked. “None of our well-known detectives ever used bloodhounds, so it’s reasonable to suppose that Detective Reilly would.”
“We’re not so bad ourselves at solving mysteries. How about the Apple Orchard and Jockey Hollow?” Arden reminded them.
“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——”
“Do you ever have any murders or serious crimes down here, Terry?” Sim asked suddenly.
“Yes—we had a very important one about three years ago. Reilly saw a headless tiny body floating in the bay,” Terry said dramatically.
“No, really?” Arden and Sim were all attention.
“Really,” answered Terry. “But when they picked it up, it turned out to be a doll some youngster dropped in the water.”
“Oh, Terry,” Sim said throwing a pillow at her. “You had me all worked up.”
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.
“Ssh-sh a minute,” she said. “Did you hear that scratching?”
They listened. It came from the front door, and this time a bark also could be heard.
“It’s a dog!” Sim exclaimed, and getting up from the pile of cushions on the floor she went to open the door.
“Why, it’s Tania!” Arden declared. “The poor dog! Look at her!”
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.
“She looks terrible,” Arden exclaimed, and disregarding the wet fur she began to stroke the regally pointed head.
“She’s hungry. Look how thin she is. Let’s give her something to eat,” Terry suggested, already starting toward the kitchen.
Tania was extremely grateful for the food Terry put before her and ate ravenously, while the girls murmured soothingly to the grateful dog.
“But how strange that she should get like this,” Terry reminded them. “Dimitri always takes such good care of her.”
“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——
“Oh, Arden! How awful! We haven’t seen Dimitri for a week. Do you think——” Terry was too frightened to put intelligible questions.
Arden nodded her head solemnly. “I’m afraid so,” she said in a quiet voice. “Something must have happened on board theMerry Jane.”
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.
But poor mute Tania could not tell them her story.
“Oh, Tania!” Sim exclaimed, taking the intelligent head in her hands. “What happened?”
But the dog only wagged a bedraggled tail and blinked her eyes with pleasure.
“We must go over at once and see,” Arden decided. “We’ll have to walk, too. We couldn’t row in this wind.”
Quickly they got into old coats and heavy shoes, pulled soft hats well down, and started for theMerry Jane.
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.
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.”
“Isn’t this wild?” Sim said holding her coat close to her. “I do hope nothing serious has happened.”
“We all do,” Arden answered. “Terry, can you find your way through the marsh?”
“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.”
Terry took the lead, followed by Arden and Sim, with Tania picking her way along daintily after them.
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.
Silently they went around to the land side, where the wooden steps led to the narrow promenade that ran completely around the boat.
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.
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.
Terry pushed aside the faded curtains that kept the little kitchen separate from the rest of the boat.
“He’s not here,” she said simply.
“From the looks of this place he hasn’t been here for quite a while,” Sim amended. “See the grease on that pan.”
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.
“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.
“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.”
“If that happened—where is Dimitri?” Sim asked excitedly.
“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.”
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.
There the covered canvas loomed up as large, in their disturbed imaginings, as a forbidding specter. Sim touched a corner of the cloth.
“Don’t, Sim,” Arden stopped her.
“Perhaps we ought to,” Sim suggested. But Arden shook her head. They should not raise the cloth.
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.
“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.”
“He must have left suddenly, then,” Arden guessed. “He was very neat in his painting. It looks pretty serious to me,” she concluded.
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.
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.
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.
“Oh, Sim!” Arden exclaimed reproachfully. “I asked——”
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.
Spellbound they gazed at the revelation.
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.
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.
“Oh, Arden,” gasped Sim, the first to speak. “How lovely!”
“And to think we never knew or even guessed,” Terry added. “He must be in love with you,” she finished softly.
“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.”
“It looks exactly like you,” Sim insisted. “There’s no use being falsely modest about such things. You know you’re pretty.”
“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.”
“What shall we do?” Sim asked, coming as usual straight to the heart of the matter and for the moment disregarding the portrait.
“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 theMerry Jane.
“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.”
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.
“I just wanted to see,” she explained, “if Dimitri’s rowboat was still tied up. It is, and his old car is there, too.”
“Then, of course, wherever he went or was taken, he didn’t go in his own boat or car,” Terry reasoned.
“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.”
“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.”
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.
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.”
The discovery of Arden’s portrait under such almost terrifying conditions left the little group frankly bewildered.
“How could he have drawn so well from memory?” Arden wondered.
“What will Arden say or do about it?” Sim reflected.
“Anyhow,” Terry was deciding, “it’s a perfectly swell picture.”
Then, as if voicing the unspoken words of her companions, Arden said:
“Please don’t let’s say anything about—the picture—now.”
“All right,” replied her companions, and they certainly meant it would be “all right” to keep their newest secret.
“I can’t understand it,” Arden remarked as they plodded along. “Especially about Tania. Hewasso fond of her.”
“Was?Oh, Arden!” Sim wailed at the slip Arden had made.
“Everything will be all right. I’m sure there is some simple explanation,” Terry said soothingly.
“I hope so,” Sim murmured, not quite so sure.
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.
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.
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.
“And, Mother,” Terry pleaded, “can’t we go to town at once to see if he has been there?”
“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——”
“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.”
“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.
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.
“Where shall we go first?” asked Sim as they neared town.
“We can get some gas and sort of ask Reilly,” Terry suggested. “He’s always friendly and sees everything.”
“Of course, that’s what we’ll do first,” Arden agreed.
But when they had jokingly asked the Chief how his tenant was getting along, he replied crisply:
“I should thinkyou’dknow 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.”
“You haven’t!” Terry droned.
More than a week! Disheartened, they tried to smile at the obliging Reilly, but the attempt was by no means a success.
He looked after them quizzically as they left.
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.
She gave them a silly grin and shook her head.
“Not him. He only came in here once for some stamps, weeks ago, but not since. Queer duck. Friend of yours?”
“Sort of,” Arden replied indifferently, and they left the store with their heads up but their spirits down.
“Well, that exhausts the village, except for the food store. We can buy some oranges and ask Mr. Gushweller,” Terry suggested.
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.
Arden looked expertly at the oranges, critically “weighing” them in her hand. How should they ask about Dimitri without exciting Mr. Gushweller’s curiosity?
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.”
“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.”
“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.
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?
“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——”
“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?”
“It certainly looked as though it had been forced open,” Terry replied.
“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.
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.
Mrs. Landry did not hide her relief when they put the car in the garage and came tramping into the house.
“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.
“No one has seen him for days,” Terry said briefly.
“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——”
“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.”
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.
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.
“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.”
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.
“Was that chair like that yesterday?” Terry asked indicating an overturned rocker.
“I don’t remember,” Sim answered. “I was so excited.”
“I don’t, either, but Tania might have done it,” Arden suggested.
“Then it doesn’t indicate a struggle or anything,” Terry remarked. “I guess it wasn’t important, anyway.”
“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.
They left theMerry Janeagain, 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.
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.
Surely this was Dimitri coming back safe and sound! If only it could be——
“Oh, gosh!” Sim exclaimed. “I’m glad he’s back! I was so worried.”
“Me, too!” said Terry ungrammatically.
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!
It came to a sudden stop with screeching of brakes, and the door, with grimy side curtains attached, was swung open.
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.
She smiled as she saw the three girls in a row looking at her in dismay.
“A reception committee. Yes?” she asked. “Good-morning! Here I am again, you see.”
“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.
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.
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 theMerry Jane.
“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.”
“A road from the village!” Olga repeated. “I thought there was no way except to go by boat from here.”
“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.”
“Really?” The dark woman raised black, curved brows. “I did not mean to be such a great trouble.”
“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.
“I guess you will have to drive——” began Sim but a look from Arden stopped her from continuing.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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?”
“Dimitri’s gone,” said Arden simply.
“Gone?” Olga asked. “Come, we must go over at once! There is something I must find out!”
And then the excitement began all over again.
“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?
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.
“My little friend, Melissa? Did she enjoy her ride?”
“Very much,” replied Arden. “But she got into trouble over it. Her father——”
“Ah, yes, she told me of him. Have you seen her recently, then?”
“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.
“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.”
“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.
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.
“Watch her carefully,” Arden cautioned Terry and Sim, indicating Olga. “Notice just what she does.”
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.
“Who did that?” she asked, angrily turning to the girls. “Who? Tell me at once!”
“We found it that way,” Arden answered. “What’s the matter?”
“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!”
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:
“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!”
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.
“But,” Arden began, “why should he break open the cupboard? Surely he had a key.”
“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.
“And Tania,” Sim reminded her. “He left nothing for her to eat.”
“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:
“Please don’t distress yourselves. I tell you, Dimitri is very capable. You believe me—yes?”
“Yes, of course,” Arden faltered.
“Oh, and if you see my little friend Melissa, tell her I have been here, will you?”
The girls nodded dumbly, and Olga drove off up the muddy road, splashing the brown water widely out from beneath the wheels.
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.
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.
“What next?” she asked of no one in particular. “She is the queerest person I ever saw.”
“Do you think she really was disturbed about Dimitri and just pretended she wasn’t?” Sim inquired.
“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.”
“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.”
“Why should we tell Melissa we saw her?” Terry reflected. “Anyway, we haven’t seen Melissa for days, and that’s odd, too.”
“That’s just Olga’s manner: playing Lady Bountiful to the poor native child,” Sim sneered. “What does she know about Melissa, anyway?”
“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?”
“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.”
Terry ran into the house and was out again almost at once.
Arden backed the car from the garage, Sim shut the doors after her, and the three were ready for the drive to the village.
“Let’s go!” called Terry hopping into the moving car. “Hurry, Arden! It’s beginning to rain again.”
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.
He smiled jovially as she saw them, his little blue eyes almost hidden behind many wrinkles.
“Afternoon, ladies!” he exclaimed. “How’s this for weather? A cat can look at a king.”
But Arden had no time for polite preliminaries.
“Mr. Reilly,” she began, “we have something very important to tell you.”
“Have you, now? What’s happened? Rain leakin’ through into your dinin’ room table? It never pours but the salt gets damp.”
“Please, I’m serious,” Arden said firmly, and taking a deep breath she announced:
“Dimitri Uzlov has disappeared!”
“Disappeared! What do you mean?”
“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?”
“Yes, I remember,” agreed the chief. “But what makes you think he’s disappeared?”
“His dog came over to our house, starving, with a piece of frayed rope on her collar,” Terry burst out.
“The door of the houseboat was open, and the rain was pouring in,” volunteered Sim.
“Both his car and rowboat are there, and there’s a cupboard broken open on the houseboat,” Arden added excitedly.
“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.
“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.”
“Have you told anyone else about this?” Reilly asked professionally. “How many people know he’s gone?”
“Just us and my mother and that woman who came to see him,” Terry answered.
“Oh, Terry!” Arden exclaimed. “And we don’t even know her last name or her license number. We let her go away without asking.”
“How stupid! That’s just what we did, and I’m sure she knew more than she let on,” Sim said in dismay.
“Mr. Reilly,” Arden pleaded, “won’t you come with us to theMerry Jane? We’ll feel better if you take a look around, because we’d never forgive ourselves if anything was wrong.”
“Why—” Reilly rubbed his chin thoughtfully—“yes, I’ll come. Might as well go right now. Just in case——”
“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.
He followed them back along the road in his ancient flivver, his fat cheeks shaking as he bounced over the ruts and puddles.
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.
Terry fidgeted. “What does he think he’s going to see, looking around like this? White pebbles as in the fairy tale?” she hissed.
“Shsh-h! he’ll hear you,” Arden cautioned.
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:
“Everything just as you found it last?”
“Everything; except for the closed window,” Arden replied.
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.
“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.
“Huhm-um,” Reilly grunted, peering into the small compartment with its shattered door.
“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.”
“That so?” the chief asked. “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m no painter.”
“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.”
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.
“Did this artist have many visitors?” he asked.
“Two that we know about,” replied Terry.
“The woman Olga, and a man who rowed over here in our boat a few nights ago. He came back toward morning,” said Sim.
“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.
“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.
“It’s more than that,” Terry agreed. “That woman didn’t seem to want to be seen in town at all.”
“And something very queer about the whole thing,” Sim interrupted, “is where has Melissa been all this while? She usually hangs around our house.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t consider that,” Reilly suggested. “This bad weather probably accounts for it. She’s home.”