Missing at Marshlands Part 12

"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 _queer_ things," she wound up vaguely.

"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.

"I can't imagine. It's strange the way she always pops up," Arden added.

"I mean Melissa, not Olga."

"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!"

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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.

"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."

"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."

They were almost home, and everyone seemed willing to think a little and stop talking. "Buckingham Palace" stood out with rea.s.suring friendliness against the late afternoon sky and looked decidedly more inviting than the moldy houseboat.

"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.

And no one there was to say "nay" to that possibility.

CHAPTER XI Still They Come

The girls did not really enjoy the tea as it had been served on the _Merry Jane_. 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.

"Maybe that water from the samovar--" began Terry.

"No, those old bra.s.s 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.

"Why, what a lot you know," teased Sim. "Why didn't you tell the artist?

He might trace some relationship--"

"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?"

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.

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.

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?

In fact they all jumped with surprise when Arden called their attention to a young man, coming up the sandy path.

"Sit up, girls, here comes another visitor," she exclaimed. "What now, I wonder?"

The young man hesitated as he reached the screen door.

"Good-evening," said Arden pleasantly.

"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."

"Oh, you mean _Merry Jane_," 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.

He smiled amicably and said he hoped they had not been bothered in that way.

"We didn't mind," Terry chimed in. "We don't have much to do here, anyway." The girls really were being silly.

"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.

"Is one obliged to walk, then?" the man asked. His wording was foreign and a slight accent made it seem more so.

"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.

"We have a rowboat you could use. We could take you," she announced, still pursuing the role of the very young.

"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.

"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."

Terry, followed by Arden and Sim, led the way to the dock, stopping to pick up the oars as they went.

"Let me take them, please," the caller protested. Terry handed him the oars.

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.

When they reached the old rowboat, Terry pointed down the bay.

"The _Merry Jane_ is just around the bend; if you stay close to sh.o.r.e, you can't miss it," she instructed the stranger.

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.

"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.

The man raised an eyebrow. "You know Dimitri, then?" he asked.

"Yes, indeed," Sim answered. "We're good friends." She felt justified in saying that.

"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,"