Terry pushed aside the faded curtains that kept the little kitchen separate from the rest of the boat.
“He’s not here,” she said simply.
“From the looks of this place he hasn’t been here for quite a while,” Sim amended. “See the grease on that pan.”
Arden, however, made a more important discovery. She pointed to a little wall cupboard. The door hung crazily on its hinges, disclosing the empty space within.
“Look,” she exclaimed. “That door has been broken open. I’ll bet that’s where Dimitri kept the snuffbox!” The words came so suddenly, the girls gasped involuntarily.
“I believe you’re right, Arden,” Terry said quickly. “Then either Dimitri left and took the box with him, or somebody broke in and stole it. But if Dimitri took the box he wouldn’t have had to break the cupboard open. He had a key. Some thief has been here.”
“If that happened—where is Dimitri?” Sim asked excitedly.
“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” Arden declared. “We’ll have to look very carefully in case there are any clues about. Come on.”
Systematically they went over the old boat, but after a careful search they had learned no more. When they completed their tour, they assembled again in the main room.
There the covered canvas loomed up as large, in their disturbed imaginings, as a forbidding specter. Sim touched a corner of the cloth.
“Don’t, Sim,” Arden stopped her.
“Perhaps we ought to,” Sim suggested. But Arden shook her head. They should not raise the cloth.
In their search they had found nothing significant except the place where Tania had been tied up; it was outside, near the stern of the boat. There was no dust, of course, to tell them how long the place had been unoccupied, but an open window through which the rain had come, soaking cushions and the floor, gave evidence that at least no one had been there since the storm had begun. Or, if they had, they had not troubled to close the window.
“These brushes are stiff with paint,” Terry remarked, picking up a long-handled one that lay near a color-filled palette. “And the paint on the palette is hard too,” she continued. “That’s unusual; all the other brushes are soaking in turpentine, and when we were here before, Dimitri had just cleaned his palette.”
“He must have left suddenly, then,” Arden guessed. “He was very neat in his painting. It looks pretty serious to me,” she concluded.
Terry shook out her damp coat. They were all quite wet, but the day, despite the storm, was warm, and they had given no thought to themselves since they left home. Following Terry’s example, the others now shook their coats.
Tania curled up in a dry corner and prepared to sleep. The adventure was not to her liking; besides, though the girls did not know it, she had been over the boat countless numbers of times looking for her master. It was not until hunger had driven her that she left her home and sought out her friends. Instinctively she went to them—trusted them.
Sim, still standing by the covered picture, took hold again of the cloth. Some power she could not resist made her pull it off before Arden had time to stop her.
“Oh, Sim!” Arden exclaimed reproachfully. “I asked—”
A change came over Arden’s expressive face. Her blue eyes clouded with tears. Surprised and startled, the three girls stood looking at the canvas, almost unable to believe their own eyes at what was revealed to them.
CHAPTER XV
Downhearted; Not Discouraged
Spellbound they gazed at the revelation.
It was a large picture, almost finished, and its bold strokes had been laid on with a sureness that told of the joy the artist had put into his work.
But the subject was what held them so amazed. For there, instead of the usual landscape, was a portrait of Arden, sitting on a mound of warm-colored sand with Tania at her feet. One slim hand was almost buried in the white fur. The sky back of her hinted at an approaching storm, and a portion of sea showed the ocean that peculiar color which comes just before a change. Arden in the picture was gazing wistfully out to sea, her eyes dreamy yet questioning, as though she were wondering what life held in store for her.
“Oh, Arden,” gasped Sim, the first to speak. “How lovely!”
“And to think we never knew or even guessed,” Terry added. “He must be in love with you,” she finished softly.
“Don’t be silly, Terry,” Arden scolded, her face crimson with blushes. “He just happened to use my face. It doesn’t look much like me, anyway. I’m not that pretty.”
“It looks exactly like you,” Sim insisted. “There’s no use being falsely modest about such things. You know you’re pretty.”
“Oh, stop!” Arden begged, and her friends saw that her eyes were filled with tears. “He’s gone now, and whatever happened to him, I’m afraid to guess. But I know one thing. He never would have gone away without leaving some word unless he was taken against his will.”
“What shall we do?” Sim asked, coming as usual straight to the heart of the matter and for the moment disregarding the portrait.
“I don’t know,” Arden replied helplessly. For a time the girls listened while the storm howled outside and the waves slapped harder against the fat sides of the Merry Jane.
“We can’t stay here very much longer,” Terry reminded them. “The tide is coming in, and there won’t be any place left to walk on back home.”
Arden nodded grimly; then, without a word of explanation, she went out the door and back to the stern of the houseboat. She returned as quickly as she had gone.
“I just wanted to see,” she explained, “if Dimitri’s rowboat was still tied up. It is, and his old car is there, too.”
“Then, of course, wherever he went or was taken, he didn’t go in his own boat or car,” Terry reasoned.
“I don’t know what we can do,” Arden said again. “But I think we should wait a little while before we spread an alarm. After all, he may have stayed in town because of the storm.”
“Of course. Why didn’t we think of that before?” Sim agreed, sighing with relief. “We’d better lock Tania in and get back ourselves. Then we can drive to town and look around for him there.”
They were relieved at having something definite to do, some real plan to work upon. Terry with difficulty closed the open window. Arden coaxed Tania out to the kitchen and left water for her to drink, besides two dog biscuits she found in a box. Sim carefully covered the picture again, still conscious of the thrilling surprise it had given them.
Finding they could not lock the door from the outside, they pulled it shut and, after one more look around the old boat, they wrapped their coats tightly about them and set out for “Buckingham Palace.”
The discovery of Arden’s portrait under such almost terrifying conditions left the little group frankly bewildered.
“How could he have drawn so well from memory?” Arden wondered.
“What will Arden say or do about it?” Sim reflected.
“Anyhow,” Terry was deciding, “it’s a perfectly swell picture.”
Then, as if voicing the unspoken words of her companions, Arden said:
“Please don’t let’s say anything about—the picture—now.”
“All right,” replied her companions, and they certainly meant it would be “all right” to keep their newest secret.
“I can’t understand it,” Arden remarked as they plodded along. “Especially about Tania. He was so fond of her.”
“Was? Oh, Arden!” Sim wailed at the slip Arden had made.
“Everything will be all right. I’m sure there is some simple explanation,” Terry said soothingly.
“I hope so,” Sim murmured, not quite so sure.
They could still hear Tania howling mournfully at being left alone, but Arden insisted they should not go back, for Tania was safe, she declared. Soon the dog’s howls could be heard no longer, with the noise of the wind and the endless slashing of the breakers on the shore.
Mrs. Landry was shocked when she saw them and sent them to change into dry things at once. After which they gathered in the living room and told Terry’s mother all about their disheartening adventure, not, however, mentioning the surprise portrait.
“And, Mother,” Terry pleaded, “can’t we go to town at once to see if he has been there?”
“Terry, dear, you always rush so,” Mrs. Landry reminded her. “Don’t you think the weather is too bad to go all that way now? Why not wait—”
“We’ll be all right,” Terry interrupted. “I’m sure none of us could sleep a wink if we didn’t at least do everything possible to find out what has happened to Dimitri.”
“Well—” Mrs. Landry was weakening. “If you dress warmly and promise to be back before dark, I guess you may go. But drive carefully, and don’t do anything foolish.” The vague warning meant more than the words which conveyed it.
They were not long in getting ready after receiving that permission. In a surprisingly short time the little car was bouncing up the road with the three girls huddled together in it bound for the village.
“Where shall we go first?” asked Sim as they neared town.
“We can get some gas and sort of ask Reilly,” Terry suggested. “He’s always friendly and sees everything.”
“Of course, that’s what we’ll do first,” Arden agreed.
But when they had jokingly asked the Chief how his tenant was getting along, he replied crisply:
“I should think you’d know about that. I haven’t seen him in more ’n a week. Takes more ’n two cats t’ make a coop of chickens,” he added. Mr. Reilly’s proverbs were sometimes queer. “Nope, ain’t seen him.”
“You haven’t!” Terry droned.
More than a week! Disheartened, they tried to smile at the obliging Reilly, but the attempt was by no means a success.
He looked after them quizzically as they left.
In the little drug store where they bought postal cards and stamps they did not need nor even want, they asked the girl clerk if she had seen “the artist” lately.
She gave them a silly grin and shook her head.
“Not him. He only came in here once for some stamps, weeks ago, but not since. Queer duck. Friend of yours?”
“Sort of,” Arden replied indifferently, and they left the store with their heads up but their spirits down.
“Well, that exhausts the village, except for the food store. We can buy some oranges and ask Mr. Gushweller,” Terry suggested.
The combination grocery and butcher store was without customers when the girls entered, and the beaming owner, Mr. Gushweller, came forward rubbing his hands and remarking how glad he was to see them.
Arden looked expertly at the oranges, critically “weighing” them in her hand. How should they ask about Dimitri without exciting Mr. Gushweller’s curiosity?
But Sim saved the day. “Say, Mr. Gushweller,” she said brightly, “what kind of meat is good for a dog—that Russian wolfhound, you know? The one that artist owns? He asked if we’d pick up something for her.”
“Wall, he gen’ally gits these.” Gushweller indicated a prepared dog food in cans. “I thought it was about time he got a new supply. He ain’t bought none for a couple weeks now.”
“I’ll take three cans,” Sim replied automatically, while one half of her brain registered the disappointing fact that Dimitri hadn’t been in that store either.
Loaded again with unwanted stuff, although Tania could use the dog food, they were a serious threesome as they drove homeward in the early evening. The storm continued violently to tear things up, and all were thinking the same thing. Dimitri hadn’t been to town even to get food for Tania. Where was he in this awful storm?
CHAPTER XVI
That Dark Woman
“If he had taken his car, or even the boat, it wouldn’t seem so—so ominous,” Arden reasoned as they drove homeward. “But to find them both there, and Tania practically starving. Well—”
“That broken cupboard, too,” Sim said. “I feel sure that’s where he used to keep the snuffbox. Do you remember the day we came to tea? The sound of a small door and a key in the lock?”
“It certainly looked as though it had been forced open,” Terry replied.
“I hate to tell Chief Reilly. I’m afraid he’ll get things all mixed up. Let’s wait a little longer, and we’ll do whatever your mother advises,” Arden said, and Terry agreed, silently nodding her head.
The storm was surely now at its height. In some parts of the road, where there was not much distance to the ocean, the waves had been blown in so that a curved white line of foam was left on the ground almost under the wheels of the car. The sand came in sheets, blowing and sticking on the wet windshield, making the driving difficult indeed.
Mrs. Landry did not hide her relief when they put the car in the garage and came tramping into the house.
“Did you find him?” she asked brightly, and then at once knew they had not, for they looked at her hopelessly and shook their heads.
“No one has seen him for days,” Terry said briefly.
“He didn’t even buy food for Tania,” added Arden. “Do you suppose something terrible has happened to him? That someone knew he had that snuffbox and—”
“I don’t believe so,” Mrs. Landry soothed, talking slowly and softly, as one speaks to a frightened child. “I’m sure you will hear good news in the morning. Come, get your damp things off and see how much better you’ll feel after you’ve had some of Ida’s chicken pie.”
Later, when they ate the pie and apparently enjoyed it, wise Mrs. Landry kept the conversational ball rolling as well as she could, but it was not easy. There was so much worry in their serious young faces that smiles were few and far between among the girls.
They retired early, tired from their long walk through the rain and the rough drive to the village and back. But healthy bodies make healthy minds, and next morning they were surprised, and a little ashamed, at having slept so well; in fact, at having overslept so well.
“We must go and feed Tania,” Arden decided after breakfast. “We’ll look more carefully this time for some clues and hope for the best.”
Tania was overjoyed to see them and ate greedily of the food Sim gave her from one of the cans she had bought the day before.
“Was that chair like that yesterday?” Terry asked indicating an overturned rocker.
“I don’t remember,” Sim answered. “I was so excited.”
“I don’t, either, but Tania might have done it,” Arden suggested.
“Then it doesn’t indicate a struggle or anything,” Terry remarked. “I guess it wasn’t important, anyway.”
“Tania will be safer here than anywhere else, and she hates the rain so,” Sim said in fixing little things for the lonely dog’s comfort.
They left the Merry Jane again, much the same as they had found her, and returned to “Buckingham Palace,” finally deciding to tell Chief Reilly if they did not hear from Dimitri by noon.
They were about to drive to town to deliver their doleful message when the sound of a car coming down the muddy road filled them with sudden hope.
Surely this was Dimitri coming back safe and sound! If only it could be—
“Oh, gosh!” Sim exclaimed. “I’m glad he’s back! I was so worried.”
“Me, too!” said Terry ungrammatically.
They waited at the back gate and watched the splashing approach of the car. Mud-stained as it was, they could still distinguish the color. A green roadster!
It came to a sudden stop with screeching of brakes, and the door, with grimy side curtains attached, was swung open.
Then they could see that the dark Olga was behind the wheel, hesitati
ng before putting a black satin shoe on the muddy ground as she prepared to step out.
She smiled as she saw the three girls in a row looking at her in dismay.
“A reception committee. Yes?” she asked. “Good-morning! Here I am again, you see.”
“Good-morning,” Arden replied mechanically, trying to look past the woman into the car. Woefully there came to her the realization that it contained no one but Olga. There was no sign of Dimitri.
Suddenly, Arden feared that Sim or Terry might give away their discovery about Dimitri’s absence before she had a chance to question the woman and learn if Olga knew of his disappearance.
But Sim and Terry acted as if struck dumb. They had been so sure that their artist friend would be in the car. Surely, Arden thought, Olga could see surprise and dismay in their faces. Perhaps she did not notice, or perhaps she was only concerned with herself, for when she spoke again she asked if they could do her the very great favor of taking her over to the Merry Jane.
“Why, I guess—” began Arden and then decided on a bold question. “But why didn’t you take the road from the village? You must have come past it as you drove out.”
“A road from the village!” Olga repeated. “I thought there was no way except to go by boat from here.”
“Oh, yes,” Terry explained. “There is a way. This road you are on now branches off farther back and goes through the marsh, right to the houseboat. Of course, it is not much of a road, but it is wide enough for one car.”
“Really?” The dark woman raised black, curved brows. “I did not mean to be such a great trouble.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Arden exclaimed quickly. “If the bay were not so rough, we would be glad to take you. But the storm—” It would not do to make Olga antagonistic. They could learn nothing then.
“I guess you will have to drive—” began Sim but a look from Arden stopped her from continuing.
“And if I meet Dimitri coming out in his handsome car, we will be like two goats on the bridge. Yes?” Olga smiled as she still sat in the auto, reluctant to put her dainty feet on the wet ground.
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