Part 6 (1/2)

But no country clubs. One movie that's better left alone, and a tiny village,” Terry explained at length.

”Oh, but you're forgetting our Russian friend and the wild girl of the swamps.”

Sim spoke up. ”Not to mention the hard-hearted father and the ferocious wolfhound _and_ the swimming. Don't you worry, we won't be bored. What I like best is the complete absence of mystery.” This was so pointed, the remark made a good joke.

”How about your theory that Dimitri is a spy and that Melissa is a kidnaped heiress?” Arden asked Sim, who was lazily swaying on the porch swing.

”Well, I do think he's queer, and I may be right after all. It's not natural for a man as young as he is to want to be alone unless he's hiding something from somebody,” Sim insisted.

”Perhaps he is. But I find Melissa more interesting. Seemed to me that man she called 'Pa' had hypnotized her. And how mean of him not to let her keep the bracelet,” Terry remarked. ”Just plain mean!”

As if that brought up different theories in each mind, their conversation dragged. The swim and the row in the morning left them feeling pleasantly weary and completely satisfied. Healthy fatigue was the real answer.

Sim moved back and forth in the rustic swing, while Terry and Arden gazed dreamily out to sea, where the dying sun turned white clouds to pink and painted the water a deep blue in the miracle of sunset.

They never even realized that a car was coming rapidly down the road behind the house, raising billows of sandy dust, until it stopped with screeching brakes at the back gate of Terry's house.

”Who's that?” Sim asked, as Sim would.

”I haven't the least idea, little one,” Terry answered. ”Unless it's some more spies or kidnapers.”

”Let's go see,” Arden suggested. ”May we?”

But they were saved the trouble, for a woman was striding up the sand-edged path to the porch. She was dressed in black satin with a huge silver fox scarf, and glittering earrings showed beneath a small satin turban. She had dark eyes, and her lips were a scarlet gash. The girls waited apprehensively.

”I beg your par-r-don,” the woman began. ”Have you a houseboat around here? He calls it-” she fumbled in a handbag and taking out a paper looked at it closely-”he calls it _Merry Jane_. Can you tell me how to reach it?”

”There is a houseboat down the bay, if that's the one you mean,” Terry answered. ”It is, I imagine, the only one around here.”

”No other houseboats?” the caller asked, showing white even teeth, pretty in spite of the carmined lips.

”No, only this one,” Terry told her. ”But I didn't know it had a name.”

”Then that must be it, my dear. Can you tell me how to reach it?”

”You'll have to go back through the village, then along a swampy road to the edge of the bay. The road is rather bad because of the rain last night.”

”Through the village? Is there no other way? I did not understand one had to go through the village,” the woman remarked vaguely.

”Unless you go by boat. I don't know of any other way of getting there,”

Terry answered.

The woman seemed to be considering. She tapped her hand impatiently on the letter she had taken from her purse, and looked around her as though trying to get her bearings and to make some decision.

”But how can I get a boat? It is very important that I get over there. I don't suppose-I would be glad to pay you-if-- Could you take me over?

Have you a boat?” the dark woman asked abruptly.