Part 35 (1/2)
”That picture,” she added. ”We looked at it.”
The whiteness of Dimitri's face, blanched by many days of confinement in a dark cellar, was changed to a deep red as he murmured:
”I hope you do not think me too presumptuous.”
”It is lovely!” declared Sim.
”A beautiful picture,” said Terry.
”And you-have you nothing to say in forgiveness?” He was looking straight at Arden.
”Oh, I think it is wonderful,” she said. ”There is no need of pardon. But it is too beautiful! I never--”
”It is not half good enough!” he interrupted. ”It was only from memory.
Perhaps you will do me the honor to sit for me that I may properly complete it.”
”If Daddy and Mother consent,” she said.
”As if they wouldn't!” said Sim.
They were at the houseboat now. It seemed silent and deserted, but the chief said:
”Might as well take precautions. n.o.body ever yet died of a broken neck by drinking milk. I'll go aboard first.”
”And if he utters another of his famous sayings I'll choke him with my handkerchief!” hissed Sim.
The silence of Tania as they approached close to the _Merry Jane_ was fairly conclusive evidence that no strangers were aboard. They walked confidently up the little gangplank and, allowing Dimitri to take the lead, followed him into the living room.
He went through the curtains to the broken cupboard, and as they all stood grouped behind him they saw him, after a moment of hesitation, put his hand in and take out an object. Then they heard his delighted cry:
”Here it is! My box! And not harmed in the least. Wait!”
Quickly he pressed the spring, took out the key, and wound up the mechanism. Suddenly the jeweled bird began to sing. A fairy hymn of victory.
”But how did it get here?” asked Arden.
”The mystery is solved-but how?” questioned Terry.
”This has got my goat,” admitted the chief. ”There's no fool like a spring chicken,” he added, showing his gold tooth in a wide grin.
”I think this may explain matters,” remarked Dimitri as he again put his hand into the shattered cupboard and brought out several sheets of paper.
He glanced over them and said: ”It is a confession from this George Clayton-he who caught me and held me prisoner. It perhaps tells everything, my friends.”
It did. George Clayton, crabber, lobsterman, and fisher, proved to be more of a scholar than anyone had ever suspected. He wrote a good hand, though some of the words were rather shaky.
_”'First of all,'”_ the written sheets revealed, _”'I want to let the girls, who were kind to my Melissa, know that she is in good hands.
Melissa had nothing to do with me catching Mr. Uzlov. After I got him she wanted me to let him go, but I wouldn't. Melissa is a good girl. I'm going to let her aunt have her and bring her up right. A woman named Emma Tash came to my place the other day, though I told her to get out, but she didn't.'”_
”Emma Tash just wouldn't do that a second time,” said Terry, recalling the crabbing party.