Missing at Marshlands Part 9

"I never heard of one before. I didn't think they ever came down here,"

Terry remarked. They were still looking out toward the garage.

"But this could hardly have been an ordinary prowler," Sim reminded them.

"We may as well go back to bed. She surely won't come back, whoever she was."

"I'll leave the lights on downstairs. We must try to get some sleep,"

Terry said, her stifled yawn entirely agreeing.

"Want to come in here?" invited Arden to Terry, who roomed alone.

"Oh-I don't know. I'm not afraid," Terry answered a little ruefully. "But since you suggested it, yes, I guess I will. Move over, Sim."

After all, three girls might be better than one for almost any midnight alarm.

CHAPTER VIII Hard to Believe

Smiling to herself in the darkness, Sim pushed over in the twin bed so that Terry could get in. Even at that, neither one would have very much s.p.a.ce, and Sim was amused to think that Terry, the trenchant, should feel like spending the rest of the night with her rather than alone in her own bed.

"I'll see that Rufus Reilly hears about this," remarked Terry, burrowing under the covers. "The idea of disturbing honest peace-loving people in the middle of the night! What Oceanedge is coming to, I don't know."

"Who's Rufus Reilly?" asked Arden.

"He's the police force," Terry replied. "He owns the only garage in the village and Dimitri's houseboat too."

"Quite a factor in the life of the community, isn't he?" Sim murmured sleepily.

"Don't make fun of him, Sim," Terry rebuked. "He's a very important man.

He says so himself."

"Well, I'm going to sleep," Arden declared, yawning freely. "I want to look my best when I meet the chief."

The conversation dragged, and feeling secure in the knowledge that the midnight intruder had gone, the girls finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, after breakfast, and with Mrs. Landry's consent, they started for the village to report to Chief Reilly.

Leaving by the front door, they were on their way to the garage at the back when they came face to face with George Clayton, Melissa's father.

"Good-morning," he said a little sheepishly. Perhaps he was conscious of his somewhat fishy-scented clothes and muddy hip boots.

"'Morning," Terry replied, and waited for him to speak again. All the girls felt rather antagonistic toward him, since they had witnessed his treatment of Melissa.

"I wuz wonderin'," he began again, "that is-have you young ladies seen anythin' of my daughter Melissa?"

"Why, no. Not since early last evening," Arden replied. "Why?"

"I wuz a little worried about her. She ain't been home all night, and I thought maybe--"

"The last time we saw her, she was riding in a green car that some woman who came to see the artist on the houseboat parked here," Sim volunteered.

George Clayton blinked his eyes rapidly and seemed at a loss for anything to say to that surprising news.

"U-hum-m!" He shook his head. "Melissa ain't entirely responsible, you know. She's overly fond of bright things. Like a blue jay. She just can't resist 'em."

"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Arden. "I do hope nothing happened to her."

"We were just going to the village to tell Rufus Reilly about a burglar we had around here last night," Terry explained. "Shall we tell him to look for Melissa?"

"Oh, no, miss, please!" Clayton exclaimed. "He knows all about Melissa.

Thinks I ought to send her to some inst.i.tution. But I can't bear-to do that," he concluded rather pathetically.

"Why didn't you let her keep the bracelet the other day?" Sim asked suddenly. "It was only worth a quarter. Perhaps she ran away because you--"

"I know, miss," Clayton interrupted, "she possibly told you how mean I was to her. But if I let her keep it she'd follow you around all the time, looking for something else." After all, perhaps the man was not so mean as they had thought.

"Say!" exclaimed Terry suddenly. "Maybe that was Melissa we heard last night, coming back for the bracelet!"

"It did look like her, I mean her height and all," agreed Sim. "I'm sure that's just who it was."

"She might have done it," the fisherman admitted reluctantly. "You won't tell Reilly, will you?"

"If you can keep her away from here so she won't scare us out of our wits again, we won't," Terry agreed. For the girls still believed in their hearts that Melissa was to be pitied and, though he said not, they felt that her father was a hard man to deal with.

"When she comes back I'll--" Clayton began but never finished, for there was Melissa herself walking toward them along the little path. Her pale pink cotton dress was a ma.s.s of wrinkles, and her hair in uncouth disarray. One white string of her sneakers flapped as she walked.

Instantly her father was a changed man. As soon as he saw her he drew himself up to his full height and a.s.sumed an aggressive manner.

"Melissa!" he shouted. "Come here!"

"Yes, Pa," she answered meekly and came slowly forward with one arm held up near her face as though to ward off a blow.

"Where wuz you last night?" he demanded.

"Here, Pa. I slept in the car in the garage," came the surprising reply.

"Why didn't you come home?" he shouted at her.

"I was afraid to. The lady took me for such a nice ride, it was late when I got back." Poor Melissa, thought the girls.

"What lady?" snarled her father.

"I dunno her name. The pretty one with the nice fur. She asked me if I'd like a ride, so I said yes. She gave me a quarter, too." Melissa held out her tanned hand and showed them the money.

"Don't you know any better than to go riding off with strangers?" her father shouted. "And scarin' these young ladies, who was so nice to you, out of their wits? Wuz you around this house last night?"

"I was just lookin' in a window. I didn't mean any harm." How cruel for a poor girl to be helpless!