Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
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THE
DRAGON'S SECRET
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[Illustration: Leslie hurried Phyllis out with what seemed unnecessary
haste]
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THE DRAGON'S SECRET
By
AUGUSTA HUIELL SEAMAN
Author of "The Slipper Point Mystery," "The Girl Next Door,"
"Three Sides of Paradise Green," "The Sapphire
Signet," "The Crimson Patch," etc., etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
C. M. RELYEA
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
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Copyright, 1920, 1921, by
The Century Co.
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I The Night of the Storm 3
II Found on the Beach 15
III The Mysterious Casket 29
IV In the Sand 40
V An Exploring Party 54
VI Leslie Makes Some Deductions 69
VII A New Development 77
VIII The Clue of the Green Bead 89
IX Aunt Sally Adds to the Mystification 100
X At Dawn 112
XI An Unexpected Visitor 123
XII The Curious Behavior of Ted 135
XIII A Trap is Set 148
XIV The Man with the Limp 162
XV Out of the Hurricane 176
XVI Rags to the Rescue 189
XVII Eileen Explains 196
XVIII The Dragon Gives Up the Secret 219
XIX The Biggest Surprise of All 239
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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Leslie hurried Phyllis out with what seemed unnecessary
haste Frontispiece
Phyllis flashed the torch about in a general survey 62
Eileen whirled the wheel around, applied the brake,
and the car almost came to a stop 137
In the glare of the electric torch the girls recognized
him 193
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THE DRAGON'S SECRET
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THE DRAGON'S SECRET
CHAPTER I
THE NIGHT OF THE STORM
It had been a magnificent afternoon, so wonderful that Leslie hated to
break the spell. Reluctantly she unrolled herself from the Indian
blanket, from which she emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon, draped it
over her arm, picked up the book she had not once opened, and turned for
a last, lingering look at the ocean. A lavender haze lay lightly along
the horizon. Nearer inshore the blue of sea and sky was intense. A line
of breakers raced shoreward, their white manes streaming back in the
wind. Best of all, Leslie loved the flawless green of their curve at the
instant before they crashed on the beach.
"Oh, but the ocean's wonderful in October!" she murmured aloud. "I never
had any idea _how_ wonderful. I never saw it in this month before. Come,
Rags!"
A black-and-white English sheep-dog, his name corresponding closely to
his appearance, came racing up the beach at her call.
"Did you find it hard to tear yourself away from the hermit-crabs,
Ragsie?" she laughed. "You must have gobbled down more than a hundred.
It's high time you left off!"
She started to race along the deserted beach, the dog leaping ahead of
her and yapping ecstatically. Twice she stopped to pick up some
driftwood.
"We'll need it to get supper, Rags," she informed the dog. "Our stock is
getting low."
He cocked one ear at her intelligently.
They came presently to a couple of summer bungalows set side by side
about two hundred feet from the ocean edge. They were long and low, each
with a wide veranda stretching across the front. There were no other
houses near, the next bungalow beyond being about half a mile away.
With a sigh of relief, Leslie deposited the driftwood in one corner of
the veranda of the nearest bungalow. Then she dropped into one of the
willow rockers to rest, the dog panting at her feet. Presently the screen
door opened and a lady stepped out.
"Oh! are you here, Leslie? I thought I heard a sound, and then it was so
quiet that I came out to see what it meant. Every little noise seems to
startle me this afternoon."
"I'm so sorry, Aunt Marcia! I should have called to you," said Leslie,
starting up contritely to help her aunt to a seat. "I hope you had a good
nap and feel rested, but sometimes I think it would do you more good if
you'd come out with me and sit by the ocean than try to lie down in your
room. It was simply glorious to-day."
Miss Marcia Crane shook her head. "I know what is best for me, Leslie
dear. You don't always understand. But I believe this place _is_ doing me
a great deal of good. I confess, I thought Dr. Crawford insane when he
suggested it, and I came here with the greatest reluctance. For a nervous
invalid like myself to go and hide away in such a forsaken spot as this
is in October, just you and I, seemed to me the wildest piece of folly.
But I must say it appears to be working out all right, and I am certainly
feeling better already."
"But why _shouldn't_ it have been all right?" argued Leslie. "I was
always sure it would be. The doctor said this beach was noted for its
wonderfully restful effect, especially after the summer crowds had left
it, and that it was far better than a sanatorium. And as for your being
alone with me--why I'm sixteen and a quite competent housekeeper, as
Mother says. And you don't need a trained nurse, so I can do most
everything for you."
"But your school--" objected Miss Crane. "It was lovely of your mother to
allow you to come with me, for I don't know another person who would have
been so congenial or helpful. But I worry constantly over the time you
are losing from high school."
"Well, don't you worry another bit!" laughed Leslie. "I told you that my
chum Elsie is sending me down all our notes, and I study an hour or two
every morning, and I'll probably go right on with my classes when I go
back. Besides, it's the greatest lark in the world for me to be here at
the ocean at this unusual time of the year. I never in all my life had an
experience like it."
"And then, I didn't think at first that it could possibly be _safe_!"
went on her aunt. "We seem quite unprotected here--we're miles from a
railroad station, and not another inhabited house around. What would
happen if--"
Again Leslie laughed. "We've a telephone in the bungalow and can call up
the village doctor or the constable, in case of need. The doctor said
there weren't any tramps or unwelcome characters about, and I've
certainly never seen any in the two weeks we've been here. And, last but
not least, there's always Rags!--You know how extremely unpleasant he'd
make it for any one who tried to harm us. No, Aunt Marcia, you haven't a
ghost of an excuse for not feeling perfectly safe. But now I'm going in
to start supper. You stay here and enjoy the view."
But her aunt shivered and rose when Leslie did. "No, I prefer to sit by
the open fire. I started it a while ago. And I'm glad you brought some
more wood. It was getting low."
As they went in together, the girl glanced up at the faded and
weather-beaten sign over the door. "Isn't it the most appropriate name
for this place!--'Rest Haven.' It is surely a haven of rest to us. But I
think I like the name of that closed cottage next door even better."
"What is it?" asked her aunt, idly. "I've never even had the curiosity to
look."
"Then you must come and see for yourself!" laughed Leslie, turning her
aunt about and gently forcing her across the veranda. They ploughed their
way across a twenty-foot stretch of sand and stepped on the veranda of
the cottage next door. It was a bungalow somewhat similar to their own,
but plainly closed up for the winter. The windows had their board
shutters adjusted, the door was padlocked, and a small heap of sand had
drifted in on the veranda.
Leslie pointed to the sign-board over the door. "There it is,--_'Curlew's
Nest.'_ There's something about the name that fascinates me. Don't you
feel so too, Aunt Marcia? I can imagine all sorts of curious and
wonderful things about a closed-up house called 'Curlew's Nest'! It just
fairly bristles with possibilities!"
"What a romantic child you are, Leslie!" smiled her aunt. "When you are
as old as I am, you'll find you won't be thinking of interesting
possibilities in a perfectly ordinary shut-up summer bungalow. It's a
pretty enough name, of course, but I must confess it doesn't suggest a
single thing to me except that I'm cold and want to get back to the fire.
Come along, dearie!"
Leslie sighed and turned back, without another word, to lead her aunt to
their own abode. One phase of their stay she had been very, very careful
to conceal from Miss Marcia. She loved this aunt devotedly, all the more
perhaps because she was ill and weak and nervous and very dependent on
her niece's care; but down in the depths of her soul, Leslie had to
confess to herself that she was lonely, horribly lonely for the
companionship of her parents and sisters and school chums. The loneliness
did not always bother her, but it came over her at times like an
overwhelming wave, usually when Miss Marcia failed to respond to some
whim or project or bubbling enthusiasm. Between them gaped the abyss of
forty years difference in age, and more than a score of times Leslie had
yearned for some one of her own years to share the joy she felt in her
unusual surroundings.
As they stepped on their own veranda, Leslie glanced out to sea with a
start of surprise. "Why, look how it's clouding up!" she exclaimed. "It
was as clear as a bell a few minutes ago, and now the blue sky is
disappearing rapidly."
"I knew to-day was a weather-breeder," averred Miss Marcia. "I felt in my
bones that a storm was coming. We'll probably get it to-night. I do hope
the roof won't leak. We haven't had a real bad storm since we came, and I
dread the experience."
At eight o'clock that evening it became apparent that they were in for a
wild night. The wind had whipped around to the northeast and was blowing
a gale. There was a persistent crash of breakers on the beach. To open a
door or window was to admit a small cyclone of wind and sand and rain.
Miss Marcia sat for a while over the open fire, bemoaning the fact that
the roof _did_ leak in spots, though fortunately not over the beds. She
was depressed and nervous, and finally declared she would go to bed.
But Leslie, far from being nervous, was wildly excited and exhilarated by
the conflict of the elements. When her aunt had finally retired, she
hurried on a big mackinaw and cap and slipped out to the veranda to enjoy
it better. Rags, whimpering, followed her. There was not much to see, for
the night was pitch black, but she enjoyed the feel of the wind and rain
in her face and the little occasional dashes of sand. Wet through at
last, but happy, she crept noiselessly indoors and went to her own room
on the opposite side of the big living-room from her aunt's.
"I'm glad Aunt Marcia is on the other side," she thought. "It's quieter
there on the south and west. I get the full force of things here. It
would only worry her, but I like it. How lonesome Curlew's Nest seems on
a wild night like this!" She switched off her electric light, raised her
shade, and looked over at the empty bungalow. Rags, who always slept in
her room, jumped up on the window-seat beside her. The mingled sand and
rain on the window prevented her from seeing anything clearly, so she
slipped the sash quietly open, and, heedless for a moment of the
drenching inrush, stood gazing out.
Only the wall of the house twenty feet away was visible, with two or
three windows, all tightly shuttered--a deserted and lonely sight. She
was just about to close her window when a curious thing happened. The dog
beside her uttered a rumbling, half-suppressed growl and moved
restlessly.
"What is it, Rags?" she whispered. "Do you see or hear anything? I'm sure
there's no one around." The dog grumbled again, half audibly, and the
hair along his spine lifted a little.
"Hush, Rags! For gracious sake don't let Aunt Marcia hear you, whatever
happens! It would upset her terribly," breathed Leslie, distractedly. The
dog obediently lay quiet, but he continued to tremble with some obscure
excitement, and Leslie remained stock still, gazing at the empty house.
At length, neither seeing nor hearing anything unusual, she was about to
close the window and turn away, when something caused her to lean out,
regardless of the rain, and stare fixedly at a window in the opposite
wall. Was she mistaken? Did her eyes deceive her? Was it possibly some
freak of the darkness or the storm? It had been only for an instant, and
it did not happen again. But in that instant she was almost certain that
she had seen a faint streak of light from a crack at the side of one of
the heavily shuttered windows!