CHAPTER VIIITHE CLUE OF THE GREEN BEAD
With shaking knees and blank dismay on their faces, they crept out of Curlew’s Nest and fastened the door. Then they hurried down to the water’s edge and sat on a rise of sand to talk it over.
“What can it all mean, Phyllis?” quavered Leslie.
“It means that some one has been in there again since day before yesterday,” declared her companion, “though it’s been bright moonlight for the past two nights, and how they got in without being seen, I can’t quite understand! You said you kept some sort of watch, didn’t you?”
“I certainly did. I haven’t gone to bed till late, and every once in a while during the night,I’ve waked up and looked over there. It doesn’t seem possible they would dare to come with the moonlight bright as day, all night long. Of course, that side door is on the opposite side from us, and the only way I could tell would be by seeing a light through the cracks of the shutter. Perhaps if they hadn’t had a very bright light, I wouldn’t know.”
“But what did they come for?” questioned Phyllis.
“Why, that’s simple. They came back to get the beads and the knife-blade. Probably it was the ‘mysterious she,’ and she came to get those things because she realized they’d been left there and might be discovered by some one else. What else could it be?”
“Of course you must be right,” agreed Phyllis. “But it’s the queerest thing I ever heard of! Anyway, there’sonething the lady doesn’t know—that we have still one of the beads! I wonder how she’d feel if shedidrealize it?”
“Do you ever wonder what that mysterious lady is like?” asked Leslie. “I often try to picture her—from the very, very little we know about her. I think she is tall and dark and slender, and very, very stylishly dressed. She has rather sad brown eyes and is quite foreign-looking and would be very interesting to know.”
“Well, I don’t imagine her that way at all,” replied Phyllis. “To me it seems as if she must be large and imposing, with light hair and blue eyes and very quick, vivacious manners. I agree that she is no doubt dressed in a very up-to-date style, and is probably about thirty-five or forty years old. I don’t know whether I’d like to know her or not, but Iwouldlike to know what she’s after in that bungalow!”
So they continued to conjecture and imagine till Phyllis finally exclaimed: “Why, there are Father and Ted back already! Fishing must have been poor this morning. Thank goodness we got out of that place when we did!But that reminds me, I ought to go to the village and order some supplies. The grocer doesn’t come here again for two days. Don’t you want to walk down with me? It’s a gorgeous morning for a ‘hike’!”
“I believe I will,” agreed Leslie, “that is, if Aunt Marcia can get along without me. I haven’t had a good walk in so long that I fairly ache for one. I’ll go and see if Aunt Marcia would like me to get her anything, and I’ll meet you in five minutes.”
It was indeed a glorious morning for a walk. The crisp October air was as clear as crystal and the salt meadows back of the dunes were still gay with goldenrod and the deeper autumn colorings. The creek that wound through them was a ribbon of intense blue, and a thousand marsh-birds twittered and darted and swooped over its surface. But the two girls were, for once, almost blind to the beauty of it all, so absorbed were they in the never-failing topic of their mystery. And the village wasreached almost before they realized they were in its vicinity.
Phyllis did her shopping first, in the general grocery store. Then Leslie suggested that they visit the little fancy-goods store and look up some wool for Miss Marcia’s knitting. It was a very tiny little store, kept by a tiny, rather sleepy old lady, who took a long time to find the articles her customers required. It seemed as if she would never, never locate the box with the right shade of wool in it!
While they were waiting, not altogether patiently, a handsome automobile drew up in front of the store. Its only occupant was a young girl scarcely older than Leslie and Phyllis, and by the ease with which she handled the car, it was plain to be seen that she was an accomplished driver. In another moment she had entered the store and was standing beside the two girls, waiting to be served.
She was short and slender in build, with a pink-and-white complexion, of marvelous clearness,and fluffy, red-brown hair. Under the heavy coat which she had unbuttoned on entering the store could be seen a stylish suit of English tweeds, very tailor-made and up-to-date, and a smart tam crowned her red-brown hair.
After the pleasant manner of the villagers and accustomed summer people, Phyllis bade her “Good morning!” But, to the astonishment of both girls, instead of replying in an equally pleasant manner, she stared at them both up and down for a moment, then turned away with only an ungracious nod. The indignant pair left her severely alone after that, except for a furtive glance or two when she was looking the other way. But when they had at last ascertained that old Mrs. Selby had, after all,nowool of the shade required, Leslie hurried Phyllis out with what seemed almost unnecessary haste.
“The little wretch!” sputtered Phyllis, oncesafely outside. “Did youeversee worse manners? But she’s—”
“Never mind about her manners!” whispered Leslie, excitedly. “Did you notice anything else?”
“Noticed that she was very smart looking and quite pretty—that is, I thought so at first. But after she acted that way, she seemed positivelyhateful!”
“No, no! I don’t mean that. Did you notice anything about her dress—her clothes?”
“Oh, do tell me what you mean!” cried Phyllis. “How you do love to mystify a person!”
“Well,” whispered Leslie, her eyes still on the door of the little store, “when she threw open her coat I just happened to glance at her dress, and noticed that it had a girdle of some dark green, crêpe-y material, and the two ends had fringes of beads—and the beads were just like the ones in Curlew’s Nest!”
Phyllis simply stared at her, open-mouthed and incredulous. “It can’t be!” she mutteredat length. “Even if the beads were like the ones you found—there are probably more persons than one who have some like them.”
“Yes, that’s true,” admitted Leslie, “but the color—and queer shape—everything!—At least, it’s something worth investigating. It’s the first real clue we’ve had.”
At that moment, the girl in question came out of the store, sprang into the car, whirled the wheel about, and was off down the street in a cloud of dust. They stood gazing after her.
“It doesn’t seem possible!” exclaimed Phyllis. “It just can’t be! And yet—tell you what! I’m just wondering whether she’s staying anywhere around here or is just a casual stranger passing through the town. Let’s go in and ask old Mrs. Selby if she knows anything about her. If she’s staying here, Mrs. Selby will positively know it. I’ll make the excuse of having forgotten to buy something. Come along!”
She hustled Leslie back into the little shop and soon had little Mrs. Selby hunting for a size and variety of shell hair-pin of which she had no need whatever, as she possessed already a plentiful supply at home. But it was the only thing she could think of at the moment. When they were being wrapped, she asked quite casually:
“Was that young girl who just went out a stranger here, Mrs. Selby, or is she stopping in the village? Seems to me I don’t recall her face.”
“Oh, she ain’t exactly a stranger,” replied Mrs. Selby with alacrity, quite waking up at the prospect of retailing a bit of gossip; “But she ain’t been around here so long—only a couple of weeks or so. She comes in here once in a while, but she ain’t very friendly like—never passes the time o’ day nor nothing,—just asks for what she wants and goes out. I never did quite take to manners like that. Nobody else here acts so—not even the summerfolks. I can’t think how she was brung up! They do say as she ain’t an American,—that she’s English or something,—but I don’t know for sure. Anyhow, she don’t mix with no one—just runs around in that ottymobile all the time.”
“Where’s she stopping?” went on Phyllis. “The hotel is closed. I thought all the summer people but ourselves had gone.”
“Oh, she’s boarding up to Aunt Sally Blake’s. I dunno how she come to go there, but there she is. I wonder how Aunt Sally gets along with her?”
“Have you heard what her name is?” pursued Phyllis, as she received her parcel.
“They do say her name is Ramsay—Miss Ramsay. Good morning, young ladies, and thank you. Come in again soon.”
When they were out on the street, Leslie clutched Phyllis spasmodically and her eyes were almost popping out of her head.
“Is there the least doubt in your mindnow,Phyllis Kelvin?” she demanded. “Her name is Ramsay—the very same name that was on the envelop in the book!”
And Phyllis was obliged to acknowledge herself convinced.
CHAPTER IXAUNT SALLY ADDS TO THE MYSTIFICATION
THE two girls walked home in a state bordering on stupefaction. Every little while Phyllis would stop to ejaculate: “Who would have thought it! The horrid little snob! I really can’t believe yet that it is she, Leslie—our ‘mysterious she!’ I’m sure there must be some mistake.”
“Well, of course, itmaynot be so,” Leslie admitted, “but you must see how many things point to it. The beads are identical. I stood so near her that I had a fine chance to see them closely. Her name is the same as the one on the envelop in the book—”
“Yes, but that isn’t the name of the man who hired the bungalow,” objected Phyllis.
“That’s quite true, but even so, you can’ttell what connection there may be with the other name. It isn’t exactly a common one, and that makes it all the more likely that we may be right. And then, there’s the fact of her being so near here—right in the village. I have always imagined that whoever it was had to come from quite a distance, and I’ve always wondered how she managed it, so late at night.”
“But Leslie, why on earth should she come to that bungalow in the dead of night, in a storm, and hide that ‘Dragon’s Secret’? What mysterious affair can she be mixed up with, anyway?”
Leslie, however, had no solution to offer to this poser, but she did have a sudden idea that made her stop short in the road and gasp:
“Do you realize, Phyllis Kelvin, that we are doing a very questionable—yes, awrongthing in keeping the ‘Dragon’s Secret,’ when it evidently belongs to this girl?”
“How do youknowit belongs to this girl?” countered Phyllis. “You onlyguessthat it may, when all’s said and done. You didn’t see her hide it there—you didn’t even seeherat the bungalow. We may be way off the track, for all you know, and we’d be a pretty pair of geese to go and meekly hand it to her, shouldn’t we! And do you know, even if I was simplypositiveit was hers, I just wouldn’t give it to her, anyway, for a while. I’d let her stew and fret for it for a good long spell—after such hatefulness!”
Phyllis’s manner was so vindictive that Leslie had to smile in spite of herself.
“But oh, see here!” Phyllis went on. “Ihave an idea—a glorious idea! It may help to clear up a lot of things. I know Aunt Sally Blake very well, and we’ll go and see her—this very afternoon! Perhaps she can give us more light on the subject.”
“But wouldn’t that seem too plainly like tracking down this—Miss Ramsay?” objectedLeslie, “especially as she doesn’t appear to care for our acquaintance!”
“Not a bit!” declared Phyllis, positively. “You don’t realize how wellIknow Aunt Sally. Why, she’s a regular village institution—everybody knows her and thinks the world of her. She’s a plump, jolly, delightful old lady who lives in a delightful old house full of dear, old-fashioned furniture. She keeps a lot of chickens and often sells them and the fresh eggs, and she does a little sewing, and sometimes takes a boarder or two, and goes out nursing occasionally—and oh, I don’t know what all! But I know that we couldn’t get along at all around here without Aunt Sally. We’ll go down to her house this afternoon and call (I really haven’t been to see her since I came down this time), and I’ll ask her if she has a nice roasting chicken that I can have. That’ll be a perfectly good excuse. And if our polite young lady isn’t around, I’ll try and get her to talk. Aunt Sally loves to talk,but she isn’t a gossip like old Mrs. Selby, and we’ll have to go at it a little more carefully.”
They solaced themselves with this thought, and awaited with more than a little impatience the visit that afternoon. Surely Aunt Sally, if any one, would be able to solve some of their mysteries!
By afternoon, the weather had turned warm, almost sultry, and they found Aunt Sally sitting on her front porch, rocking gently and humming to herself over her sewing. She was delighted to see Phyllis again and to make the acquaintance of Leslie, whom Phyllis introduced as her neighbor and very dear friend. When they had chatted about topics of common interest for a while, Phyllis introduced the subject of the chicken.
“Bless your heart, dear!” cried Aunt Sally. “I’m so sorry, but I haven’t a roasting chicken just now in the whole yard—nothing but fowls. But I can give you a couple of niceyoung broilers—and I’ve plenty of fresh eggs.”
Phyllis straightway arranged to have two broilers ready for her when she called for them next day, and skilfully changed the subject.
“Oh, Aunt Sally! do show Leslie those begonias you’ve been raising all summer. I do think they are the most beautiful things! You certainly are very successful at making things grow!”
Highly flattered, Aunt Sally rose to lead the girls indoors to the sunny room where she kept her plants. While they were admiring them, she asked them to sit down and rest a while and talk—an invitation they accepted with great alacrity. At length, after a detailed account of the health and affairs of her entire family, Phyllis craftily led the conversation back to Aunt Sally herself.
“And are you alone now, Aunt Sally, or is your sister still with you? I heard she was going back to Ohio.”
“Yes, she’s gone and I’m alone,” sighed Aunt Sally; “at least,—I’m not quite alone. I have a boarder at present.”
“Oh,haveyou!” exclaimed Phyllis, guilefully, as if it were all news to her. “Why, that’s very nice. I hope the boarder will stay a long while. It will be some company for you.”
“Well, I dunno how long she’ll stay, and she ain’t much company forme, I must confess!” admitted Aunt Sally, with a somewhat worried air. “The truth is, I can’t exactly make her out.”
This was precisely the line that Phyllis wished her to take, yet even now caution must be observed or Aunt Sally might shy away from it.
“Oh, it’s a lady then!” remarked the artful Phyllis.
“Well, no, it ain’t exactly a lady—it’s a young girl ’bout the age of you two, I should guess.”
“Still, I don’t see why she shouldn’t be company for you, even so,” argued Phyllis, quite as if she were still completely in the dark as to this new boarder.
“The reason she ain’t much company,” went on Aunt Sally, “is because—well, I don’t know as I ought to say it, but I guess she thinks she’s too sort of—high-toned to ’sociate with the person who keeps her boarding-house!” Aunt Sally laughed, an amused, throaty little chuckle at this, and then the worried frown came back.
“Why, she must be rather horrid, I think,” commented Phyllis, with more heartfelt reason than Aunt Sally could guess!
“No, I don’t think she means to be horrid—she’s just been brought up that way, I guess. I wish she could be more friendly. I sort of feel a responsibility about her. You see, she’s here all alone. She was staying at the hotel with her grandfather, and he suddenly took awful sick and had to be taken to the hospitalup at Branchville. She stayed on at the hotel so’s to be near him (she runs up there every day in her car), and then the hotel had to close down for the season. The manager come to me and asked me if I could take her in, ’cause he was kind of sorry for her, her grandfather bein’ so ill, an’ she couldn’t seem to find no other place. So I did, but she worries me a lot, somehow. I don’t like to see a young girl like that with no one to look after her, and she running around loose in that auto all the time. Why, she even took it out one rainy night last week at ten o’clock. Said she was worried about her grandfather, but I didn’t approve of her running all the way up there to Branchville in the rain.”
Here Phyllis glanced significantly at Leslie and interjected a question. “Did she and her grandfather have one of the bungalows on the beach this summer, do you know, Aunt Sally?”
“Why, not that I know of. She said she’d been visiting some friends somewhere in Maine,and then come on here to join her grandfather just a few days before he was taken sick. I don’t think it likely she ever stayed in one of the bungalows. She didn’t seem to know anything about this region at first. And I’d likely have heard of it if she had. But, laws! I got biscuits in the oven and I’m clean forgetting them!” And with a whisk of skirts, Aunt Sally vanished for a moment into the kitchen.
“What did I tell you!” whispered Leslie. “Went out in the rain one night last week about ten o’clock! I warrant she didn’t go to the hospital, or, if she did, it was after she’d visited Curlew’s Nest!”
But Aunt Sally was back almost immediately, bearing some hot biscuits and jam which she hospitably invited her guests to try. And while they were partaking of this refreshment she sighed:
“My, how I have been gossiping about that poor girl! I sort of feel conscience-stricken,for I could like her real well if she’d only let me. She’s a sort of lovable-looking child! I wish she knew you two girls. I believe it would do her a lot of good to be around with you. There she is now!”—she cried, as a car flashed past the window and up the driveway toward the barn. “Just wait till she comes in and I’ll introduce you—”
“No, no!” exclaimed Phyllis, hastily springing up. “Better not, Aunt Sally. If she doesn’t care for you, I’m sure she wouldn’t for us. Besides, we must go right away. Remember, we’re both thecooksin our families, and even as it is, we won’t be back very early. It’s a long walk. Good-by, and thank you, and I’ll send for the broilers to-morrow!” And with Leslie in tow, she hurried away, leaving a somewhat bewildered Aunt Sally gazing after them.
“Well, I guess not! The idea of trying to get acquainted a second time with that difficultyoung person!” Phyllis exploded, when they were out of ear-shot.
“And yet,” mused Leslie as they swung along, “unpleasant as the thought of it is, I wonder if it wouldn’t be a good idea—to get acquainted?”
CHAPTER XAT DAWN
“How do you mean—it might be the best thing to get acquainted with her?” demanded Phyllis, indignantly.
“Why, if we could do so in some way that wasn’t like forcing ourselves on her, it might lead to a good many things—solving our mystery mainly. And then,—who knows?—shemightbe pleasant when you come to know her better.”
“No chance!” declared Phyllis, and dismissed that subject. “Well, Aunt Sally didn’t do much toward clearing up things, did she?” she went on. “I was in hopes she’d be able to give us a good many more ideas. One thing’s certain though. That girl evidently came here in the car that rainy night, but—Lookhere! Something strange has just occurred to me—Aunt Sally didn’t saywhichrainy night, and there have been two in the past ten days. I judge that the girl must have been with her for at least a couple of weeks, for the hotel closed up more than two weeks ago.”
“I’ve been thinking of that, too,” replied Leslie. “And, do you know, I’m almost certain Aunt Sally must have meant thelastone, because she only said‘rainy’night. If she’d meant that other, wouldn’t she have said ‘the night of the hard storm,’ or something like that? Because it reallywasunusual, and if this Miss Ramsay had gone outthatnight, I believe Aunt Sally would have been considerably more shocked and would have said so. What do you make of it?”
“The only thing I can make out of it is that she didn’t go out that first night. But if shedidn’tvisit Curlew’s Nest that night, then who in the worlddid?”
This certainly was a poser, and neither of the two girls could find an adequate conjecture that would answer.
“Then, this Horatio Gaines who hired the bungalow must be her grandfather. Of course, thenameis different, but he may be the grandfather on her mother’s side. But if that is the case, who is the ‘Hon. Arthur Ramsay’?” questioned Phyllis.
“Perhaps her father or her other grandfather,” ventured Leslie.
“That’s possible; but I wish I had found out from Aunt Sally if she knew the name of the grandfather who is ill. That might explain something. I wish I had asked her at the time. I believe I’ll go for the broilers myself to-morrow and see if I can find out any more in some way that won’t make her suspect,” declared Phyllis.
The next morning Phyllis was as good as her word. She went down to the village alone, as Leslie had matters that kept her at homethat day. But she came flying back breathless, to impart her news.
“I managed to lead the conversation around—to that grandfather business—again,” panted Phyllis, to Leslie, when she had induced her chum to come down to the beach for a moment, “and what do you think she said? That his name was‘Ramsay’!Now what do you make ofthat?If his name is Ramsay, he can’t be the man who hired that bungalow—and we’re all on the wrong track!”
“No, it doesn’t prove that at all,” insisted Leslie. “The one who rented the bungalow, no matter what his name was, certainly had an envelop in his possession addressed toRamsay. So you see there’s a connection somewhere!”
Phyllis had to admit that this was so. “But here’s something else stranger than that—what do you think of my having been introduced to and becoming acquainted with our ‘exclusive young friend’?”
Leslie certainly opened her eyes in astonishment.“You’re surely joking!” she exclaimed.
“No, positive truth! It happened this way: I was just about to leave with my chickens under my arm, when in walks this precious Miss Ramsay, right into the room. I could see she was prepared to turn on that cold stare effect again, but I never so much as noticed her existence. And then Aunt Sally bustled in,—she’d been upstairs a minute,—and blest if she didn’t introduce us after all! Said the most complimentary things about yours truly, and how I was staying at my bungalow on the beach; and then she mentioned you, too, and told about you being in the ‘Rest Haven’ bungalow. It struck me that our young lady sort of pricked up her ears at that (though itmayhave been only imagination). But she just said ‘How-de-do,’ rather carelessly—didn’t offer to shake hands or anything.
“I muttered something about it being a pleasant day and hoping she was enjoying theplace. But she only replied, ‘Oh, ya-as, thanks!’ with that awfully English accent, and walked out of the room. Well, anyhow, we’re formally acquainted now (whether either one of us enjoy it or not!), and that may be a useful thing later, perhaps.”
It was still dark the next morning when Leslie awoke from a dreamless sleep—awoke suddenly, with the distinct impression that something unusual was happening. She lay perfectly still for several moments, trying to localize the sensation more definitely. In her room were two windows—a small one facing Curlew’s Nest and a large, broad one facing the sea. Leslie always had this window wide open, and her bed was so placed that she could easily look out of it.
She did so now, and noticed the first light streak of dawn along the east, and a brilliant star so close to the horizon that it seemed to be resting on the edge of the tossing ocean. Then her heart leaped and felt as if it almost turnedover—for between her and the light, at the window, she descried the shape of a dark head!
Involuntarily Leslie sprang up to a sitting position. Then the tension relaxed and she drew a deep breath of relief. It was only Rags, standing on his hind legs at the window, his great shaggy head silhouetted against the light. In another instant he had uttered his low, rumbling growl of uneasiness.
“What is it, Rags? What do you see?” she called softly to him. He forsook the window for a moment and trotted over to nuzzle his head on her pillow, but almost immediately hurried back to his post at the window.
“There’s something worrying him!” she thought. “Now I wonder what it can be. Suppose—suppose it were some one around that other bungalow again! I’d better get up and see.”
She rose softly, slipped on a warm dressing-gown and slippers, and peered first out of the side window at Curlew’s Nest. But the darknesswas still intense on this side, there was no tell-tale light in the chinks of the shutters, and she was forced, after watching for several moments, to conclude that nothing was amiss in this region.
Then she went to the window facing the ocean, pushed Rags aside a trifle, and cuddled down beside him on the window-seat. The dawn was growing every moment brighter. The streak of gray along the horizon had grown to a broad belt of pink, and very faintly the objects on the beach were beginning to be visible. Rags still rumbled his uneasy growl at intervals, and stared intently at something Leslie’s eye could not yet discern.
It was only by following the direction of his gaze that she presently realized there was something moving on the beach somewhere in front of Curlew’s Nest. Then her heart actually did seem to stop beating for an instant, for in the growing light she at last could distinguish a dark form moving stealthily about by theold log where Rags had dug up the “Dragon’s Secret!”
“Oh! who can it be? And what are they doing there?” she whispered distractedly to Rags. The dog’s only reply was to growl a little louder, and she promptly silenced him.
“Be a good dog, Rags! Don’t make a sound! It will rouse Aunt Marcia, and besides Imustsee who is there, if possible!” Rags settled down again to a quieter watch with evident reluctance.
With every passing moment, day was approaching nearer, and the scene out over the ocean was one of surprising beauty, had Leslie only been less occupied and had time to observe it. The band of pink had melted into gold, and a thousand rosy little clouds dimpled the sky above. It was now so light that the dark shape on the beach stood out with comparative clearness. It had been bending down and rising up at intervals, and it took little guessing on Leslie’s part to conjecturewhat was happening. Some one was digging in the spot where the “Dragon’s Secret” had been hidden!
“What if it is Miss Ramsay?” thought Leslie. “Oh, itmustbe she! Who else could it be? She’s looking for that box, and she can’t find it because we’ve taken it away. Oh, what ought I to do about it? If only Phyllis were here!”
At this moment she realized from the actions of the unknown person that the search was evidently abandoned. The figure stood upright, struck its hands together, and threw away some implement like a board, with which the digging had been done. Then, with a discouraged shrug of the shoulders and a hasty glance back at the two cottages, it turned and walked away down the beach and was shortly out of sight.
And it was then that Leslie sank back on the window seat with a little gasp of sheer astonishment.
The figure was not—couldnot have been that of Miss Ramsay! It was aman—a tall, burly man; and as he walked away, his gait gave evidence of a decided limp!
CHAPTER XIAN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
So anxious was Leslie to impart this newest development to Phyllis that morning, that she ate no breakfast at all, a departure which worried Miss Marcia not a little. But Leslie was out of the house and off the moment she had finished washing the dishes.
It was some time before she could locate her companion, as the Kelvins had gone off early on a fishing expedition a short way up the inlet, having persuaded Phyllis to join them, a thing she had done but little of late. After a long walk and much halloo-ing, however, Leslie sighted their boat. And it took considerable time before she could persuade Phyllis to come ashore, as she could not very well impart to her, standing on the bank, that she had newsof vital importance concerning their secret.
When Phyllis had at last been lured ashore and the two had walked away out of sight, she told the tale of her curious experience at dawn.
“And now, Phyllis, what do you make of it?” she demanded, wide eyed.
“There’s only one thing to make of it,” returned Phyllis, gravely, “And that is—there’s some one else mixed up in this—some one we haven’t known about or counted on at all! I thought Miss Ramsay, all along, was the only one concerned in it. Now we can only guess that that isn’t so. But how to make head or tail of the whole thing is beyond me. What kind of a man did you say he was?”
Leslie described him again. “Of course, it was still hardly light and I couldn’t see him plainly at all,” she ended. “I never even got a glimpse of his face, nor how he was dressed. But he was tall and broad-shouldered, and I think stooped a little and walked with quite a decided limp.”
“That last fact ought to help to identify him, if nothing else,” mused Phyllis. “But I confess I’m more at sea than ever about the whole thing. I was beginning to think I’d reduced things to some kind of a theory, but this upsets everything. And it annoys me so to think I’m always out of it, being so far away from Curlew’s Nest. I do believe I’ll have to come and spend my nights with you or I’ll never be on the scene of action at the most interesting time!”
“Oh, Idowish you would!” urged Leslie, earnestly. “I’m really beginning to be quite nervous about all this. It’s so uncanny, not being able to say a word about it to Aunt Marcia or any one—being all alone there, or as good as alone, when these queer things happen. Don’t you suppose we could arrange it somehow that you could come over and stay with me—without having it seem odd or out of the way to the others?”
They both thought hard over the problemfor a moment. Suddenly Phyllis cried,—“I have it—I think! I heard Father and Ted planning to-day to be off fishing to-night, and as many nights after as the conditions are good. They just adore that kind of thing and have done very little of it this time. As a rule, I don’t mind a bit staying alone at the bungalow if I don’t happen to go with them. But I’ve never before had the excuse of having you here to be with. It will seem perfectly natural for me to say that, as they’re to be away, I’ll spend the night with you. How’s that?”
“Oh, just the thing!” exclaimed Leslie, enthusiastically. “And now let’s go back and take a swim. It’s fairly mild and the best time of day for it. You left your suit at our house last time, so it’s very convenient. You won’t have to walk all the way back to your place.”
They strolled back to Rest Haven in a leisurely fashion and had just turned the cornerof the house and come in sight of the front veranda, when what they saw there almost took them off their feet. On the veranda sat Aunt Marcia, rocking comfortably back and forth, and opposite her, in another rocker sat—could their eyes have deceived them?—who but the redoubtableMiss Ramsay!
She was dressed as they had seen her in the village store, and she was chatting, with an appearance of the greatest affability, with Miss Marcia. The two girls stared at her in ill-concealed amazement—so ill-concealed, in fact, that even Miss Marcia noticed it.
“Miss Ramsay and I have been getting acquainted while we waited for you to come back,” she remarked, somewhat bewildered by their speechless consternation. “She says she made your acquaintance at Aunt Sally Blake’s in the village, where she is boarding.”
“Oh—er, yes!” stuttered Phyllis, remembering her manners. “It’s very pleasant to see you here, Miss—Ramsay. I see you are acquaintedwith Miss Crane. This is Miss Leslie Crane her niece.”
Leslie bowed and murmured something inarticulate, but Miss Ramsay was affable to a degree. “I drove over to your cottage first, Miss Kelvin,” she chatted on, after her introduction, “with some eggs Aunt Sally promised you. She was going to send them by the butcher boy, but he did not stop this morning, so, as I was going out, I offered to take them. But I found no one at your place, so I came on here, introduced myself to Miss Crane, and we’ve been having a nice time together.”
The astonishment of the girls at this amazing change of front in the difficult Miss Ramsay was beyond all expression. Her intonation was slightly English, her manner charming. They had not dreamed that she could be so attractive. And so fresh and pretty was she that she was a real delight to look upon.
“What delightful little cottages these are!” she went on. “They look so attractive from the outside. I’m sure they must be equally so from the inside. We have nothing quite on this style in England, where I came from.”
“Wouldn’t you like to go through ours?” asked Miss Marcia, hospitably. “Leslie, take Miss Ramsay through. Perhaps she will be interested to see the interior.”
“Oh, I’ll be delighted!” exclaimed Miss Ramsay, and rose to accompany Leslie.
It did not take them long to make the round of Rest Haven. Rather to her hostess’s astonishment, the girl seemed more enthusiastic over Leslie’s room than any of the others and lingered there the longest, though it was by no means the most attractive.
“What a wonderful view you have of the sea!” she said. And then she strolled to the other window and looked out, long and curiously. “That’s an interesting little cottagenext door,” she remarked presently. “Is it—is it just like this one?”
“Why no. It’s larger and differently arranged and furnished more elaborately, too, I—I believe,” faltered Leslie, hoping she had not appeared to know too much about it.
“I wonder if we could go through it?” went on the visitor. “I—I just love to see what these little seashore places look like. They’re so different from ours.”
“Oh, I hardly think so!” cried Leslie. “You see it’s all locked up for the winter, and Mrs. Danforth, who owns it, has the key.”
The girl looked at her intently. “And there’s no other way, I suppose, beside the front door?”
“How should I know?” countered Leslie, suddenly on her guard. “If therewerewould it be right to try it, do you think? Wouldn’t it be too much like trespassing?”
“Oh, of course!” laughed Miss Ramsay. “I only meant that it would be fun to look it over,if there were any proper way of doing so. You see, Grandfather and I might be here another summer and I’d just love to rent a little cottage like either one of these two.”
She turned away from the window and they sauntered out of the room and back to the veranda.
“And now that you’ve seen Leslie’s bungalow, you must run over and see ours, especially as it was at ours you at first intended to call!” said Phyllis. “Come along, Leslie, and we’ll show Miss Ramsay over Fisherman’s Luck!”
It struck the girls that Miss Ramsay showed a trifle less enthusiasm about returning to the other cottage. Still, she agreed, with a fair assumption of polite interest, and they tramped back along the beach, chatting agreeably.
But she showed very genuine pleasure in the entirely different appearance of Phyllis’s abode, and a large surprise at the presence of a grand piano in so unusual a place. And when Leslie had informed her of Phyllis’s talent sheeagerly demanded that they be given an immediate concert.
And it was Phyllis’s sudden whim to render a very charming and touching program, ending with the Chopin “Berceuse.” The music died away in a hushed chord, and Leslie, who had been gazing out at the ocean during its rendering, was astonished when she looked around to see the visitor furtively wiping away a few tears.
“I’m a perfect goose about some kinds of music!” she muttered apologetically, and then, abruptly, “Won’t you two girls please call me Eileen? I’m so lonely here and I haven’t any friends and—and—I’d like to see you often.”
And then the impulsive Phyllis put a comradely arm about her shoulder. “Just come as often as you like. We’ll always be delighted to see you. I’m sure we three can have a jolly time together. And be sure to call us by our first names, too.”
“Thank you, Phyllis and Leslie,” she said simply. “You are more than kind to me. But I must be getting back now. It’s most time for me to go to the hospital to see Grandfather. He’ssoill, and I’m so worried about him!” Again the tears came into her eyes. “But good-by! I’m coming over to-morrow with the car to take you all out for a spin!” And she was gone, running down the path to where she had parked the car.
When they were alone, the two girls looked at one another.
“It’s the most amazing thing I ever heard of—this change in her!” marveled Phyllis. “Have you the slightest idea what has caused it?”
“I think I have,” answered Leslie, and she told of the girl’s curious conduct when she was being shown through Rest Haven. “I believe she had a purpose in coming here—she may have thought she could find out something from us. And she certainly thought she might getinto Curlew’s Nest, though I don’t believe for a minute the reason she gave was the only one. I think she didn’t particularly want to go to see your place, either, but when she got here she liked it.”
“Yes, and I like her—strange as you may think it!” declared Phyllis. “I’ve quite changed my mind about her. Do you know, I think that girl is having a whole lot of trouble, somehow or other—trouble she can’t tell us about. What the mystery is and how it is connected with that cottage, I don’t see. But I do believe that she likesus, and if we’re ever going to solve this mystery at all, it will probably be through her.”
“Shall we—do you think we ought to—give her the Dragon’s Secret?” faltered Leslie.
“I certainly donot—at least not yet! I’ll wait till I know a few things more before I make a move like that!” declared the emphatic Phyllis. “And now come along and let’s have our swim.”