Missing at Marshlands Part 14

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 embarra.s.sment, with her confused thoughts.

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.

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.

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 c.o.c.ked 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.

"How do you like your new neighbor, Miz Landry?" he asked, showing a s.h.i.+ning gold tooth.

"We like him all right, but we don't see much of him," Terry answered, smiling.

"Funny feller," he chuckled as he wiped off the winds.h.i.+eld. "Wrote to me 'long 'bout last April and rented my ole boat. Never even saw it." He gave the winds.h.i.+eld a grand swipe.

"Do you know Melissa Clayton?" Sim asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Her adventure in the ocean was still fresh in her mind.

"Sure; everyone knows Melissa," the chief answered.

"How about her father? What kind of a man is he?" pursued Sim.

"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."

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.

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 winds.h.i.+eld. Like all bad news, it was better to have it started. The sooner begun the sooner it would be over.

CHAPTER XIII The Tragic Messenger

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."

"Let's play rummy, the storm makes me restless," Sim suggested.

"If you feel restless now, I hate to think how you'll feel after three days of it," Terry reminded her.

"Three days!" Arden exclaimed. "I'll have to get out my tatting to keep me busy, I guess."

"You can't tat, silly," Sim smiled. "Come on, let's play cards."

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.

"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."

"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?"

"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."

"She's a marvelous swimmer," Sim said admiringly. "I wish she could lead a more pleasant life, poor girl."

"Chief Reilly didn't seem to think her father was so awful," Terry remarked.

"Oh, Chief Reilly!" Arden exclaimed. "He doesn't seem to think much anyway."

"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.

"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.

"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 das.h.i.+ng 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 cus.h.i.+ons 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.