Part 31 (1/2)
”It's gone!” she exclaimed. ”The box, the pretty yellow one that I put there myself, is gone!”
Was it a trick that Melissa had played on them? Or had Terry argued so successfully that the girl had actually come to believe she really did possess the box?
”Are you sure you had it?” Arden asked gently. ”When did you see it last?”
”This morning I took it out to look at it,” Melissa replied slowly.
”What did it look like?” Terry asked, not quite believing that Melissa ever had it now.
”It had a little bird on and the prettiest s.h.i.+ny stones all around the edge,” Melissa answered woefully. ”Oh, I did like it so much! It was so pretty!”
The girls fell silent. They had met another stone wall. They had neither Dimitri nor the snuffbox. They were as much in the dark as ever.
”But, Melissa,” Sim began, ”what could have happened to it?”
”I don't know,” Melissa replied slowly.
They looked curiously at the bare little room. Poor child, it was not surprising that she loved bright s.h.i.+ny things so much. In a place such as this was, anyone would crave relief from its drabness.
Arden turned to go, and the others were about to follow when they were halted by the sound of heavy footsteps hastening up the wooden steps that led into the house.
The three girls drew together. Serge stepped forward as though to protect them.
”It's Pa,” Melissa said, looking fearfully at them.
”What's going on in here?” an angry voice was heard before they saw the owner of it.
Melissa shrank back to the wall between the bed and bureau.
”What are you people doing here? Who let you in here?” It was George Clayton, wildly angry at this invasion of his property.
”We came by ourselves,” Terry said, boldly anxious to keep her pledge with Melissa.
”You did! Well, I advise you to go by yourselves before I run you off!”
Clayton bellowed, reaching for a shotgun on the wall.
”Now, see here, Clayton,” Serge began, standing fearlessly before the angry man. ”Be careful how you handle that gun. You don't want to do anything you might be sorry for later.”
”I know what I'm doing,” Melissa's father insisted. ”You people get out of here! This is my property. You've got to get a warrant before you can come snooping around my place!”
”All right, we'll go,” Serge said in a low voice. ”But you watch your step. I've heard you're not very popular in these parts.”
Clayton made an angry motion as though to strike Serge, but with an effort controlled himself and, spluttering and fuming, literally drove them from the shack.
They all piled into the little rowboat and made their way slowly back across the bay, disappointed and defeated, hardly knowing what to say-what to believe.
Serge decided to go at once back to New York.
”Dimitri might have gone to my place. I will get in touch with you tomorrow and let you know,” he said and, not going into the house again, he thanked Mrs. Landry, who was anxiously waiting at the small dock and, climbing in his car, drove quickly out of sight.