CHAPTER IX
THE GHOST INVITED
“DE mail man done been yere,” was the greeting of Ham, as the elatedparty walked up to the porch of the bungalow. The darkey held out adozen letters to Mr. Tremaine.
That gentleman ran hastily through the letters, dropping four into oneof his own pockets and passing some to the others.
“And one for you, Captain, from Tres Arbores,” added Henry Tremaine,passing over the last to the young motor boat skipper.
“A bill for something I ordered for the boat, I guess,” noddedHalstead, slipping the envelope into his pocket.
It was now within an hour of sunset. The alligator had been hauled uponto the pier, where Jeff, with Ham’s aid, would remove the hide laterin the evening.
“You don’t seem curious about your letter, Captain,” smiled Ida, whenshe had glanced through two of her own.
“Is one ever curious or eager about bills?” laughed Tom. “I’ve threeor four accounts down in Tres Arbores for supplies furnished for theboat. But I can’t settle any of them until we go back to the bay.”
As the air was growing somewhat chilly, with the sinking of the sun,the others passed on into the living room, where Ham had a blazing woodfire ready for them. Tom, however, remained outside, preferring thefresh air.
After strolling about the grounds for some little time, he steppedinto an arbor. It seemed curious to this Northern boy to think ofa leaf-clad arbor in December, but here it was, with vines growingluxuriantly over the trellis work. There was a seat there, and Tomsank onto it. He was thinking hard about the robbery in the starboardstateroom on the morning of their arrival in Oyster Bay. No more hadbeen said about it by any member of the party, yet with Tom Halsteadthe subject would not down.
“Of course, the Tremaines and Miss Silsbee must often remember that Iwas the only one outside their party who had access to the cabin duringthe night of the storm,” he mused. “They’re all mighty kind to me, yetwhat must they think when they sometimes get to wondering? Of course,Oliver Dixon was the scoundrel. I saw him fix the contents of the waterbottle from that vial of his. He knew that only Mr. Tremaine drankwater just before turning in. Dixon robbed his friend, after drugginghim. Yet what a wild story it would be, backed by no word but my own.Joe is right; I’ve got to hold my tongue and be patient. Mr. Tremainewould think it all a cock-and-bull story if I told him what I sawDixon doing. Gracious, but it’s hard to keep quiet and wait. The truthmost likely will never come out—and there’ll always be that lurkingsuspicion of me!”
After some minutes Halstead remembered the letter from Tres Arbores.Some instinct prompted him to take it out and open it. Instead of beinga bill, as he had suspected, it was a letter.
“Jumping bow-lines!”
Tom Halstead was fairly staggered as he glanced through that shortepistle in the waning light of day. The letter was signed by ClaytonRandolph, the policeman at Tres Arbores, and it ran:
I am taking this chanse of writing you, as I know the mail goes up to-day. I am on board your boat most the time, all is well there. Now I have something to tell you I know will intrest you. You remember the afternoon of the day you landed here, you and partner stayed here in the afternoon, but Tremane and his party drove over to Tunis that afternoon. Dixon must found a chanse to slip the rest of the party, for he went to the xpress office and sent a package to Ninth National Bank New York, said the value was 3200 dollars. Maybe real value was more but he thought that enough to make xpress people careful. Now it happens my oldest boy, Joe, is xpress agent at Tunis. He was down here to-day and when he heard about robbery he told me about Dixon sending package. Maybe you can put two things together. I tell you this because I like you and believe you’re straight.
Tom Halstead read this illuminating missive over slowly, aloud, withgrowing wonder in his voice.
“Wow! That’s clear enough. Then Oliver Dixon _did_ steal the money, andhe has sent it to a New York bank,” cried young Halstead, all a-quiverwith the bigness of the news. “Oh, the scoundrel!”
Nor was “the scoundrel” himself shaking any the less, at that moment.For Oliver Dixon stood on the other side of that thick curtain ofleaves. Walking about the grounds, with his cat-like tread, Dixon hadheard Tom Halstead’s first excited exclamation. Drawing softly close,he had heard the young skipper’s artless reading of that excitingletter.
First of all Dixon’s face went deathly pale. His knees shook under him.He looked like a man going through the agonies of severe fright.
By the time Tom had finished the reading, however, Dixon had regainedhis self-control. There was a deep scowl on his face. His fistsclenched tightly.
“Now, that young cub will go and show the letter. It will be enough tostart even easy-going Henry Tremaine on an investigation. Ruin!” OliverDixon confessed to himself. “Oh, what an idiot I was. And yet I neededthat money! But now I may as well run away from here at once. I’m donefor. Ida Silsbee wouldn’t consider me even fit to be her footmat. I’llhustle away from here without an excuse.”
Collected, cool enough, but feeling that all was up, Oliver Dixon stoleaway from the arbor in which the dazed young motor boat skipper stillsat, staring at the sheet he held in his hand.
“I guess there’s just one thing to do,” muttered Tom. “That will be togo and show this letter to Mr. Tremaine. He can do as he pleases aboutit. If that robbery had happened within the limits of Tres Arbores,Clayton Randolph wouldn’t have written the letter; he’d have come herewith handcuffs.”
Dixon, having gained the porch, where he found himself alone, paused tolight a cigarette and ponder fast.
“I wonder if all is lost, though?” he muttered. “If I could only gethold of that note, and silence Tom Halstead! Then I could try the valueof braving it out for a while. It’s a fearful thought, that of losingIda Silsbee and her fortune!”
Briefly Dixon thought of the possibility of being able to bribeHalstead with a substantial portion of the stolen money. But the rascalshook his head. Much as he disliked the young motor boat captain, thethief was bound to admit to himself that the boy would probably proveincorruptible.
“Especially, if he’s under the witchery of Ida’s eyes!” thought Dixon,with another burst of miserable jealousy.
“I wonder if it would be safe to steal upon him, down in the arbor,and——”
Oliver Dixon shuddered at the thought that surged up in his mind. Badthough the fellow was, his rascality had its limits.
“I’ll wait and see what I can do,” thought the wretched one, finally.“At the worst, I imagine I could bluff it out, for a day or so, anyway,by claiming that Halstead had put up a job to have that letter mailedto him. By Jove, I’ll stay and fight it out, whatever happens, until Ifind I’m floored past help. With Ida Silsbee’s fortune in sight, andTremaine appearing to like me, the stakes are high enough for a reallybrave, desperate fight. That’s it—fight! Against any odds!”
Tossing away his cigarette into the growing darkness outdoors, andforcing himself to appear wholly at ease, Dixon stepped inside,greeting the group in the living room with one of his pleasantestsmiles.
Being rather crudely equipped, the bungalow possessed an old-fashionedwash-room.
Just as Halstead entered, the men-folks were starting for thiswash-room, as Ham had announced that supper would be ready in a fewminutes. Here Tremaine and Dixon removed their coats, the two MotorBoat Club boys and Jeff slipping off theirs at the same time. Therebeing but two basins, some waiting had to be done. When Mr. Tremaineand Dixon started back to the living room, Tom nudged his chum,whispering:
“Wait a moment, Joe. I’ve something to show you.”
Presently Jeff Randolph, having finished washing and combing his hair,sauntered slowly out. Then the young skipper thrust a hand into hisinner coat pocket.
“What! Where did I put that?” muttered Tom, uneasily.
“What was it?” asked Joe Dawson, curiously.
But
his chum, instead of replying, rapidly explored all his pockets,then hunted busily about the room.
“It must be something mighty important, whatever it is,” smiled Joe.
“It is,” was all Tom vouchsafed. Then, unable to discover any trace ofthe letter, Halstead turned to his comrade with a blank face.
“What have you lost?” demanded Joe Dawson, struck by Tom’s serious look.
“I—I guess I won’t speak about it, until I find it,” respondedHalstead, slowly, in a dazed, wondering voice. He felt as thoughpassing through some dream. Had he really received such a letter? Butof course he had.
“Oh, just as you like,” responded Joe, readily.
“Wait!” begged Tom. “I want to look—and think—before I say a word, evento you, old fellow.”
“All right, then,” nodded Joe, patiently.
Oliver Dixon, who had slipped back to where he could see and hearwithout being detected, smiled in a satisfied way. _He_ knew where thatmissing letter was!
Five minutes later all hands were seated at the table, while Ham, withthe important look he always wore when presiding over a dinner, bustledabout.
When the hot, steaming food was laid before them, Tom was barely ableto eat, noting which, Joe wondered, though he was content to wait forthe answer.
Oliver Dixon, on the other hand, was in excellent spirits, eatingwith relish while he chatted brilliantly with his hosts and with IdaSilsbee. Indeed, his companions thought they had never seen the youngman to better advantage. Ida was conscious of an increased interest inher suitor.
“Let’s see, Ham,” propounded Henry Tremaine, after a while, “we’reright in the region of your famous ghost, now, aren’t we?”
“Don’ talk erbout dat, sah—please don’t yo’,” begged the negro,glancing uneasily at his employer.
“Why not?” inquired Mr. Tremaine.
“’Cause, sah, talkin’ erbout de Ghost ob Alligator Swamp is jest erboutde same t’ing as ’viting it heah, sah. Ef yo’ speak erbout it, sah,it’s a’most shuah to come heah, sah.”
That Ham Mockus believed what he was saying was but too evident, sokindly Henry Tremaine dropped the subject with a short laugh.
“It was one of the tightest places I was ever in,” declared OliverDixon, who was relating an imaginary hunting adventure to Miss Silsbeeand Mrs. Tremaine. “I felt buck ague when I saw that animal’s glaring,blazing eyes——”
Just at that moment Ham was re-entering the room with a tray laden withgood things.
From outside there came a sudden, sobbing sound. It was followed,instantly, by a long-drawn-out wail. Instantly this was taken up by achorus of high-pitched, unearthly shrieks.
Crash! Ham dropped the tray and its contents, which went to smash inthe middle of the room.
“Dere it am—oh, Lawdy, dere it am!” yelled Ham Mockus, sinking to hisknees. “It’s It—de Ghost ob Alligator Swamp!”
The Motor Boat Club in Florida; or, Laying the Ghost of Alligator Swamp Page 9
