A NEW DEVELOPMENT
But the weather remained quite clear for several nights after this. And
meantime other things happened that gave a new twist to the girls'
conjectures.
Two mornings after the events of the last chapter, Phyllis appeared at
Rest Haven with a mysterious wrapped parcel in her hand. Answering
Leslie's curious glance, she whispered:
"I want you to take this thing and keep it here and hide it. It's 'The
Dragon's Secret.' I don't feel safe a minute with it around our place
since Ted's performance the other day. You know, he boasted he'd find out
our secret, and he will certainly make every effort to, or I don't know
him. Whether he'll succeed or not depends upon how clever _we_ are in
spoiling his plans. If he found this, though, we might as well not try to
keep the rest from him. I discovered him snooping around my room rather
suspiciously yesterday. This was locked up in my trunk, and he _said_ he
was only hunting for fudge! But anyhow, you'd better keep it now, if you
can think of some safe place to hide it."
"I'm sure I don't know where to put it!" sighed Leslie, rather worried by
the responsibility. "Aunt Marcia and I shared one big trunk because it
didn't seem worth while to bring two, when one needs so few things here.
So of course I couldn't put it in there, and the lock of my suitcase is
broken. There isn't a bureau-drawer with a key in the whole bungalow--so
what am I going to do?"
For a time, Phyllis was equally puzzled. Then suddenly she had a bright
idea. "I'll tell you! That top shelf in your pantry where the
refrigerator is! You said you'd put quite a few kitchen things that you
didn't use there, and it's dark and unhandy and neither your aunt nor any
one else would think of disturbing it. Wouldn't that be the best place,
really?"
"I guess you're right," admitted Leslie, considerably relieved. "Wait
till Aunt Marcia has gone to sit on the front veranda, and we can put it
there."
The Dragon's Secret had probably known some strange resting-places in its
time, but doubtless none stranger than the one in which it now found
itself--a dark, rather dusty top shelf in a pantry, hobnobbing with a few
worn-out pots and pans and discarded kitchen-ware! But the girls tucked
it far into a corner, and, wrapped in its burlap bag, it was as
successfully concealed as it would have been in a strong-box.
"And now, there's something I've been wanting to ask you," said Leslie,
as the two girls strolled down to the beach. "Do you happen to know
anything about the people who hired Curlew's Nest the latter part of this
summer?"
"Oh, yes!" answered Phyllis, "though I didn't happen to see them myself.
Mrs. Danforth told me that in July the Remsons had it, as they always do.
But in August and September she rented it to an elderly gentleman,--I
can't think of his name, just this minute,--who stayed there all by
himself, with only his man or valet to do all the work. He wasn't very
well,--was recovering from some kind of a fever, I think,--and wanted to
be alone in some quiet place. You know, Mrs. Danforth herself spent all
summer in your bungalow, and she said she saw very little of the man in
Curlew's Nest, though they were such near neighbors. He sat on his porch
or in the house a great deal, or took long walks by himself on the beach.
He used to pass the time of day with her, and make some other formal
remarks, but that was about all. She was really rather curious about him,
he seemed so anxious not to mix with other people or be talked to. But he
left about the middle of September, and she closed up that bungalow for
the winter. That's about all I know."
"It's too bad you can't think of his name!" exclaimed Leslie.
"Why?" demanded Phyllis, suddenly curious. "You surely don't think that
has anything to do with _this_ affair, do you?"
But Leslie countered that question by asking another: "Has it ever
occurred to you as strange, Phyllis, that whoever got into that bungalow
lately, knew the little secret about the side door and worked it so
cleverly?"
Phyllis's eyes grew wide and she seized Leslie's arm in so muscular a
grip that Leslie winced. "No, it didn't, you little pocket-edition
_Sherlock Holmes_! But I see what you're driving at. To know about that
side door, one must have been pretty well acquainted with that
bungalow--_lived_ in it for a while! Aha! No wonder you're curious about
the last occupant. We'll have to count that old gentleman in on this!"
"Yes, but here's the mystery," reminded Leslie. "You said he lived here
alone except for his man-servant. Remember, please, that the footprint we
saw--was a _woman's_!"
Phyllis tore at her hair in mock despair. "Worse and more of it!" she
groaned. "But the deeper it gets, the more determined I grow to get to
the bottom of it!"
They strolled on a while in silence. Suddenly Phyllis asked, "Where's
Rags this morning?"
"He doesn't seem to feel very well to-day. Something seems to have
disagreed with him--perhaps too many hermit-crabs! Anyway, he's lying
around on the veranda and seems to want to stay near Aunt Marcia and
sleep. She said she'd keep him there."
"Best news I've heard in an age!" exclaimed Phyllis, delightedly. "That
dog is a most faithful article, Leslie, but he's a decided nuisance
sometimes! And now, I have a gorgeous idea that I've been wanting to try
for two days. Father and Ted have gone off for the day up the inlet, and
Rags is out of commission. Here's our chance. Do you realize that there's
one bedroom in Curlew's Nest we didn't have a chance to explore the other
day? Let's go and do it right now. I'll run down to our house for the
electric torch and meet you at the side door. There's not a soul around
to interfere with us!"
"Oh, no, Phyllis! I really don't think we ought--" objected Leslie,
recalling all too vividly the unpleasantness of their former experience.
But Phyllis was off and far away while she was still expostulating, and
in the end, Leslie found herself awaiting her companion in the vicinity
of the side door of Curlew's Nest.
They entered the dark bungalow with beating hearts, more aware this time
than ever that mystery lurked in the depth of it. Straight to the
unexplored bedroom they proceeded, for, as Leslie reminded them, they had
no time to waste; Rags might have an untimely recovery and come seeking
them as before! Ted also might be prompted by his evil genius to descend
on them; or even Aunt Marcia might be minded to hunt them up.
The bedroom in question, as Phyllis now recalled, was the southwest one,
and the one Mrs. Danforth said that the last tenant had chosen for his
own. "Therefore it ought to be more than ordinarily interesting," went on
Phyllis. "I remember now that Mrs. Danforth said he had asked permission
to leave there, as a little contribution to the bungalow, a few books
that he had finished with and did not wish to carry away. She left them
right where they were on a shelf in his room, instead of putting them in
the bookcase in the living-room. I'm sort of remembering these things she
told me, piecemeal, because Mrs. Danforth is a great talker and is always
giving you a lot of details about things you're not particularly
interested in, and you try to listen politely, but often find it an awful
bore. Then you try to forget it all as soon as possible!"
They found the bedroom in question somewhat more spacious and better
furnished than the others. But though they examined every nook and cranny
with care, they discovered nothing thrilling, or even enlightening,
within its walls till they came to the shelf of books. These, with the
exception of two books of recent fiction, were all of travel and politics
in foreign countries.
"My, but he must have been interested in India and China and Tibet and
those countries!" exclaimed Leslie, reading the titles. "I wonder why?"
She took one of them down and turned the pages idly. As she did so,
something fluttered out and fell to the floor. "Oh!" she cried, picking
it up and examining it. "Phyllis, this may prove very valuable! Do you
see what it is?" It was an envelop of thin, foreign-looking paper--an
empty envelop, forgotten and useless, unless perhaps it had been employed
as a bookmark. But on it was a name--the name no doubt of the recipient
of the letter it had once contained, and also a foreign address.
"Do you see what it says?" went on Leslie, excitedly. "'_Honorable Arthur
Ramsay_, _Hotel des Wagons-Lits_, _Peking_'. Why, Phyllis, that's his
name (which you couldn't remember!) and he was evidently at some time in
Peking!"
But Phyllis was puckering her brows in an effort of memory. "There's some
mistake here, I guess," she remarked at length, "for now I recall that
Mrs. Danforth said his name was Mr. Horatio Gaines!"
Leslie dropped the envelop back in the book, the picture of disappointment.
"It doesn't seem likely he'd have someone else's envelops in his books,"
she remarked. "And I think Honorable Arthur Ramsay of Peking sounds far
more thrilling than plain 'Horatio Gaines'! Let's look through the rest of
the books and see if we can discover anything else."
They examined them all, but found nothing more of interest and Leslie
suggested uneasily that they had better go.
"But there's one thing I must see first,--" decided Phyllis; "the beads
and broken penknife you found. I've been wild to look at them for myself.
Come along! We'll have time for that."
They made their way cautiously into the next bedroom, bent down, and
turned the torch toward the floor under the bureau where Leslie had made
the discovery. Then both girls simultaneously gasped. There was not a
sign of the beads anywhere to be seen!
"Phyllis!" breathed Leslie, in frightened wonder. "It's gone--the whole
string! What can be the meaning of it?"
"Come!" cried Phyllis, dragging Leslie after her. "Let's go and see if
the broken penknife blade is there yet. If that's gone, too, something
new has happened here!"
They hurried to the living-room and bent over the fireplace. The
half-loosened brick was there as Leslie had described it, but of the
broken penknife blade in the corner, there was not a vestige to be seen!