Missing at Marshlands Part 11

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.

"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."

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?

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!

Then they beheld the treasure!

There, s.h.i.+ning dully on his carefully outstretched palm, they beheld a box, a tiny snuffbox of burnished gold!

"Oh!" came a chorus. But no other word was spoken.

Somehow this all seemed like some sacred rite to their still bewildered eyes which could now discern jewels, even diamonds, surrounding the box.

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!

Dimitri was watching them intently, his own eyes glittering with the beauty of his valued possession.

Terry's mother took a step nearer. Even she had fallen under the spell of this strange treasure.

CHAPTER X Beauty That Dazzled

"How perfectly beautiful!" exclaimed Arden. "What is it?"

"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."

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.

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.

"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?"

"Of course," Dimitri replied. "Did you see this little watch in the side and the real feathers on the little bird?"

"I have never seen anything like it!" exclaimed Mrs. Landry. "It must be worth a fortune."

"It is," solemnly answered Dimitri. "It is the only really valuable possession I have left except--" He turned aside without finis.h.i.+ng 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:

"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."

The girls were still spellbound, while Mrs. Landry a.s.sured him that it was the natural thing to do and hoped it would be quite safe in his affectionate keeping.

"I have hidden it well, I hope, and I need not tell you why I have trusted you all."

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.

"We will never violate your confidence." Mrs. Landry spoke for the group, but even that polite a.s.surance seemed unnecessary.

Somehow the artist knew he could trust them; and he had!

"And now, will you try some tea, Russian style?"

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.

They sat, sipping from gla.s.ses 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.

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.

"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."

"Thank you, I would be pleased to," he suavely answered.

Then, saying good-bye, they left, a smiling, happy foursome, and started away in the old rowboat over to the Landry landing.

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.

"There's Melissa," Sim exclaimed needlessly, for they had all seen her.

"No need to worry about her comings and goings."

"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.

"Where is her home, Terry? Is it near here?" Arden asked.

"Not very. It's clear across the bay; two or three miles, anyway, isn't it, Mother?"

"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."

"Of course we will, Mrs. Landry," Sim a.s.sured her, and then in another mood she asked, "Wasn't that a knockout snuffbox? Imagine keeping nasty old snuff in it."

"Dimitri doesn't keep _anything_ 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.

"You like him a little, don't you, Arden?" Terry asked whimsically.

"Don't be silly, Terry! You like him, too," Arden snapped back.

"We all do, even Mrs. Landry, don't you?" Sim wanted to know, joining in the complimentary chorus.

Terry's mother smiled and nodded.

"Well, I think it's strange, just the same," Arden said almost to herself, "very strange."

"What, the box?" Sim inquired.