Part 10 (1/2)

”Who can that be?” exclaimed Lucile.

”I'll see,” said Florence racing for the door.

Much to her astonishment, as she peered down over the rail she found herself looking into the blue eyes of a strapping police sergeant.

”Florence Huyler?” he questioned.

”Ye--yes,” she stammered.

”How do I git up?” he asked. ”Or do you prefer to come down? Gotta speak with you. Nothin' serious, not for you,” he added as he saw the startled look on her face.

With trembling hand Florence threw the rope ladder over the rail. As the officer set the ladder groaning beneath his weight, questions flew through her mind. ”What does he want? Will he forbid us living in the O Moo? What have we done to deserve a visit from the police?”

Then, like a flash Mr. Cole's words came back to her: ”Someone else may wish to talk with you.” That someone must be this policeman.

”Will you come in?” she asked, as the officer's foot touched the deck.

”If you please.”

”You see,” he began at once, while his keen eyes roamed from corner to corner of the cabin, ”my visit has to do with a bit of a curio you found lately.”

”The blue candlestick?” suggested Florence.

”Exactly, I--”

”We really don't know much--”

”You may know more than you think. Now sit down nice and easy and tell me all you do know and about all the queer things that have happened to you since you came to live in this here boat.”

Florence seated herself on the edge of her chair, then told in dramatic fas.h.i.+on of her adventures in the old museum.

”Exactly!” said the officer emphatically when she had finished. ”Queer!

Mighty queer, now, wasn't it? And now, is that all?”

”Lucile, my friend here, had a rather strange experience in the Spanish Mission. Perhaps she'll tell you of it.”

Lucile's face went first white, then red.

”Oh, that! That was nothing. I--I went to sleep and dreamed, I guess. You see,” she explained to the officer, ”I had been out in the storm so long, I was sort of benumbed with the cold, and when I got inside I fell asleep.”

”And then--” the officer prompted with an encouraging smile.

”It won't do any harm to tell,” encouraged Florence.

Stammering and blus.h.i.+ng at first, Lucile launched into her story. Gaining in confidence as she went on, she succeeded in telling it very well.

When she came to the part about the blue face, in his eagerness to drink in every detail the officer leaned forward, half rising from his chair.

”Hold on,” he exclaimed excitedly. ”You say it was a blue face?”