THE MAN WITH THE LIMP
Two days had passed. To Leslie it was a constant marvel, considering the
secret tension under which she lived, that outwardly her life went on in
the same peaceful groove. She rose and dressed as usual, prepared the
meals, ate and chatted with Aunt Marcia, walked on the beach or down to
the village, fished occasionally with Phyllis and the Kelvins, took a dip
in the ocean when it was not too chilly, read and slept and idled, as if
there were nothing in the world but what was quiet and normal and in the
ordinary course of things.
Aunt Marcia suspected nothing. Even Ted, who, she was certain, suspected
many things, laughed and chatted with and teased her, and never by so
much as a word or look indicated the slightest suspicion of her interest
in Curlew's Nest and its affairs. With Phyllis his manner was somewhat
different, and during the last two days their relations had seemed
occasionally rather strained, but there was no open break, in public at
least.
"But at home it's another matter!" Phyllis assured her. "Something's come
over him--I can't guess what. He will hardly speak either to Father or
myself. He doesn't even want to play his violin when we get together, and
usually he adores that. He's moody and silent and just--_grouchy_, most
of the time! And that's unusual for Ted. I'll give him credit for being a
pretty amiable fellow, as a rule. I can't make him out!"
"And it surely is queer that we've seen nothing more of Eileen, don't you
think so?" questioned Leslie.
"Well, no. Considering that she gained her point and got us away all that
afternoon, I don't think it at all queer. She's done with us now. Why
should she try to keep on with it? By the way, I called her up at Aunt
Sally's last night. She wasn't there, but Aunt Sally said her grandfather
has been rather worse for the last two days and she's been at the
hospital most of the time--was there then. All of which may or may not be
so. As a matter of fact, I guess Aunt Sally knows precious little of her
doings when she's away in that car."
Somehow, Leslie could never believe Eileen quite as full of duplicity as
Phyllis thought her. While she had to admit that circumstances made the
girl's conduct seem almost inexcusable, there always lingered in her mind
a stubborn feeling that perhaps there was more back of it all than they
know--that Eileen herself might be struggling with entangling problems.
And secretly she still felt a liking for the girl. But she knew it was
useless to express these doubts to Phyllis, so she wisely kept her own
counsel. But there was one thing she did allude to.
"Isn't it strange that Eileen never told us a word about her grandfather,
or how sick he was, or what was the matter with him? You would have
thought it natural, that day when she took us riding, to say _something_
about it, anyway. I hardly see now how she could have avoided it. And yet
she did. You'd never have thought she had such a thing as a sick
grandfather on her mind!"
"Leslie, you certainly are a trusting soul!" exclaimed Phyllis,
scornfully. "How do you know she _has_ a sick grandfather in any
hospital? I strongly doubt it myself!"
"Oh, I _can't_ believe she's not telling the truth about _that_!" cried
Leslie, thoroughly shocked. "Don't you believe anything about her any
more?"
"I don't know what I believe or don't believe--about _her_!" retorted
Phyllis. "And what's more, there's only one thing concerning her that I
_am_ interested in just now--whether she has discovered the answer to
that note left in there and when she--or any one else--is going to make
the attempt to unearth their treasure again!"
Phyllis had been as good as her word. On the morning after that night of
the fog, she had returned to her bungalow before breakfast, and had
reappeared later at Rest Haven with a mysterious bundle. When they had
both retired to Leslie's room she revealed its contents, a piece of
burlap, an exact duplicate of the one which contained the Dragon's
Secret, and an antimony jewel-case. Then they got down the original from
its dusty shelf, fashioned a bag, the exact size and shape of the one
Rags had unearthed, placed the jewel-case in it, and sewed it up. When
all was complete it would have been extremely difficult to tell the
original from its duplicate, so nearly alike did they seem.
Late that afternoon, while Ted and his father were far up the inlet, and
with the beach entirely deserted, they buried the false treasure-box in
the sand by the old log. Phyllis did the deed, while Leslie scouted the
beach in every direction, investigated every nook and corner that could
possibly conceal any one, and made absolutely certain that they were not
observed. And from that time on they had awaited results.
And to their certain knowledge, there had been none. Each day, at some
hour when there was least likelihood of any one being near, they had
examined the place, only to find the buried bag still in its
hiding-place, untouched. At night they had taken turns keeping watch, all
the night through; but no stealthy visitor had come to Curlew's Nest, nor
had there been any during the day--of that they were absolutely certain.
The beach had never seemed so free of visitors before.
And thus matters stood on the second afternoon, and they were beginning
to be impatient at inaction and delay. Then Phyllis had an idea.
"I know what's the matter!" she cried. "We're keeping too close a watch.
We don't give anybody a chance to come within gunshot of that place,
unobserved, so how can we expect that anything is going to happen? If
it's Ted, don't you suppose he sees us hanging about here all the time?
He'd be a goose to try anything right in front of our eyes. No doubt he's
seen one or the other of us at the window all night, too. And if it's
Eileen or any one else, it's the same thing. Let's go off somewhere and
give them a chance. Not too far though, for we want to be where we can
get back with reasonable speed ourselves."
So they went for a stroll along the beach, accompanied by Rags, who was
only too delighted at the prospect of an expedition that promised some
change. It was a mild, hazy October afternoon. An opalescent mist lay
along the horizon and the waves rolled in lazily, too lazily to break
with their accustomed crash. Every little while there would be a flight
of wild geese, in V-shaped flying line, far overhead, and their honking
would float down faintly as they pushed on in their southward course. It
was a golden afternoon, and Leslie almost resented the fact that they had
any worries or problems on their minds.
"Why, who in the world is that?" exclaimed Phyllis, suddenly, as they
rounded a slight curve in the beach and came in sight of a figure
standing at the water's edge, a rod and long line in his hand, and a
camp-stool and fishing-kit beside him. "There hasn't been a stranger
fishing in this region in an age! People generally go down by the big
bungalow colony three miles farther along for that. We almost never see
any one here. I wonder what it means!"
As they came nearer, they could see more plainly what sort of person he
appeared to be. He was tall and stalwart and gray-haired. A slouch hat
was pulled down to shade his eyes, but still they could see that his face
was alert and kindly and placid, with twinkling gray eyes and a whimsical
mouth. He was obviously an adept fisherman, as Phyllis remarked, when
they had witnessed the clever way in which he managed a catch. They were
very near him by that time, and watching breathlessly. Once his prey
almost eluded him, but with a skilful manipulation of his tackle, he
presently brought the big fellow, lashing wildly, to land, well out of
reach of the water.
"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, winding up his line, "but that fellow gave
me a warm ten minutes!"
The girls had by this time reached the spot and were admiring the catch.
"Congratulations!" laughed Phyllis, with the informal interest of the
born fisherman. "I couldn't have done it myself, not after he had almost
escaped. He must weigh five pounds!"
The stranger looked at them with interest. "So you fish? Well, it's the
best sport in the world. This bouncer has been dodging me all the
afternoon, and I vowed I'd get him before I left. Almost had him once
before, but he got away with the bait. Wouldn't let me alone, though,
even after that. I warned him he was flirting with his fate!" And he
laughed a big, booming, pleasant laugh.
At this moment Rags, who had been elsewhere occupied, came bounding up,
and straightway made a bee-line over to investigate the fish.
"Hi! Stop that!" exclaimed the stranger. "I intend to have that fish for
my supper to-night!" and he made a dash for his cherished trophy. But
Rags, disconcerted by the sudden movement, was on his guard at once. As
the man approached, he sank his teeth into the fish with a growl that was
a warning not to be ignored.
"Oh, call him off!" cried the man, anxiously, and Leslie, very much
upset, sprang forward to rescue the stranger's dinner. But Rags saw a
chance for a lark; and as times had been rather slow and uninteresting
for him of late, he determined to make the most of it. Seizing the fish
in a firm grip, he galloped madly up the beach, the two girls wildly
pursuing.
There ensued a chase very similar to the one he had led them on that
eventful day when he had unearthed the Dragon's Secret. Never once did he
allow them to lay a finger on his prize, though, panting and disgusted,
they pursued him hither and yon, sometimes so close that he was well
within their reach, sometimes with him far in advance. Occasionally he
would lie down with the fish between his paws, fairly inviting them to
come and help themselves. Which they had no sooner attempted, than he was
up and away again.
The man wisely took no part in the struggle, but stood looking on,
encouraging them with half-rueful, half-laughing remarks. At length
Leslie had an inspiration. While Rags was standing at the edge of the
water, panting from a long and furious run, the fish reposing at his
feet, she seized a small board lying near, called to him beguilingly and
hurled the board out into the sea.
Here was a game that was even more fascinating. Rags always adored it.
Forsaking the much-sought fish, he leaped into the lazy waves and swam
out toward his new prize, while the stranger eagerly seized the fish and
concealed it in his basket.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" apologized Leslie. "I know he has spoiled it now. I
hope you can forgive us for this dreadful thing."
"Nothing of the sort!" laughed the stranger. "He hasn't harmed it a bit,
for it was only the head he had hold of. When it's washed and cooked,
that beauty will taste just as good as if it had never had the adventure.
My, but that's a fearsome animal of yours! I wouldn't want to tackle him.
But those English sheep-dogs are noted for being wonderful protectors and
very interesting pets besides."
And just to show that he bore Rags no malice, he picked up the board
which the dog had retrieved, and obligingly hurled it into the surf
again. Rags ecstatically pursued it once more, dropped it at the man's
feet, and begged for another opportunity. But just before it was launched
a third time, he spied a hermit-crab scuttling away almost under his
nose, forsook his latest diversion, and was off on another hunt.
The man laughed, dropped the wet, sandy board, dusted off his hands by
striking them together, picked up his fishing-kit, hung his camp-stool
over his arm, bade the girls good afternoon, and strode away.
They gazed after him a moment and were about to turn back toward their
own part of the beach, when Leslie suddenly seized Phyllis's arm in a
vice-like grip.
"Phyllis, Phyllis, don't think me crazy! Something has just come to me.
The way that man threw the board just now and dusted off his hands and
then walked away--was just--exactly like--the _man with the limp_ that
morning at dawn! The action was identical. I'm positive I'm not mistaken.
And he looks just like him, the same height and build and all, as he
walked away."
"But, my dear child, _he doesn't limp_!" cried Phyllis, conclusively. "So
you certainly are mistaken!"
"I know he doesn't, but I--don't care. He's the same one. I am absolutely
sure of it. Maybe he's all over the limp now."
But though Leslie was so certain, Phyllis remained unconvinced!