All Is Well
Gazing with fear-widened eyes at one another, the three girls waited for
what might happen next.
The chief had found the man missing from Marshlands; but in what
condition? The worst might have happened, for it was now obvious that
Dimitri had been the prisoner of George Clayton ever since the mysterious
disappearance from the _Merry Jane_.
“Oh,” murmured Arden, “if he is——”
She could not finish.
“I—I feel sort of funny,” said Terry.
“Girl, if you pass out on us now I’ll never speak to you again as long as
I live!” threatened Sim.
“Oh, I’m all right—I guess,” Terry said. “But——”
She was interrupted by the voice of Chief Reilly coming, muffled, from
the cellar.
“Guess maybe you girls had better come down here,” he called. “I might
need your testimony for evidence.”
“Oh!” almost shouted Arden. “Is he——”
“Mr. Uzlov is all right. He’s alive, though I can’t say he’s very well,”
went on the chief. “He’s bound and gagged and all knocked out, but I
can’t see anything very wrong. There’s so many ropes on him I’ll need
help in getting them off quick. But I want you to see him so you can
testify against this rat of a Clayton. Nasty piece of business, if you
ask me.”
The girls could hear Tania now joyously whimpering. The dog no longer
barked fiercely. It was evident she was with her beloved master whom she
found to be alive, at least.
Thus reassured, the three descended the outside cellar steps. The chief
held his torch for them to see, and by its light they noted that he had
already started on the work of rescue. A cloth that had been bound around
the Russian’s mouth had been taken off. But he was still trussed up.
With a slash of his knife, while Arden held the light, the chief released
the roped hands. And as Dimitri rubbed his numbed lips he said weakly:
“So you’ve come at last.”
“Oh, if we had only guessed this before!” exclaimed Arden.
“Still, you are in good time. I am not harmed,” said Dimitri. Then he
could talk no longer, for Tania was frantically licking his face.
With the help of the girls, one of whom held the light while the chief
and the others loosed the binding strands, Dimitri Uzlov was soon set
free. He was a little weak in his legs, but after stamping about managed
to regain the use of them and was able to leave the cellar.
He had been found in a sort of closet in one corner, small and dark, with
only the cracks around the sealed window for ventilation.
“I seen that shut closet door as soon as I got down here,” said the chief
as they all went into the upper sunlight. “I’d ’a’ knowed somebody was in
that closet even if the dog hadn’t rushed for it like—well, like a mouse
goin’ for cheese in a trap,” he finished.
“It is good to be out again,” said Dimitri as he paused at the top of the
steps and took a long deep breath. “I have been in the dark too long.”
“But what happened?”
“How did he get you?”
“Did he harm you?”
“Where is he now, and Melissa?”
The girls’ questions came trippingly.
“I think it is best if I go back to my houseboat and there tell you the
story,” said the artist. “Perhaps there is even left some tea—and I
should dearly love a cup of tea. This Clayton jailer gave me nothing but
coffee. I am so sick of it!”
“There is tea left,” said Arden.
“That is good. I suppose,” and his voice faltered, “that my precious box
is not left. They must have taken that.”
“I’m afraid they did,” said Arden.
“Well, it is fate! I am glad at least to be alive,” and Dimitri shrugged
his shoulders with resignation.
“You all better get in my boat and leave yours here until later,” said
the chief when it was found that Dimitri, after a long drink of water,
was able to walk with more ease. “We’ll make better time that way. More
haste the quicker you get over it.”
Sim shook her fist at him behind his back.
They all piled into the motorboat, Tania never leaving her master’s side,
and in a short time they were at the _Merry Jane_. After it was seen that
Dimitri, though obviously suffering from neglect, was not seriously
harmed, it came to Arden’s mind that she and her chums must make a
confession.
They had looked at the forbidden picture. It was very likely that
Dimitri’s trained vision would detect that the cloth had been removed and
put back. Of course, he might think Clayton had done it, but it was
better to tell. So Arden said:
“We discovered your secret.”
“My secret?” He appeared not to understand.
“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. Nobody 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.
_“‘So I had a talk with her,’”_ Dimitri read on from the letter, _“‘and I
decided it wasn’t right to Melissa to keep her here with me. Not that I’m
going to be here any more. I’m leaving. But before I left I told this
Emma Tash she could take Melissa and bring her up the way her aunt wants
her brought up. So that woman took her off.’”_
“Then the poor child will have something in life after all,” murmured
Arden. “I’m so glad!”
“She may even become a champion swimmer,” suggested Sim.
“Oh, you and your swimming,” laughed Terry. “Let’s find out about the
snuffbox.”
“That’s right here,” said Mr. Uzlov. He read on:
_“‘Melissa has always been different from other girls. Mrs. Landry and
the three young ladies know that. One day Melissa came home to me with
this gold box that I’m leaving back in your cupboard. She told me she had
broken open your cupboard and taken it from your houseboat, Mr. Uzlov.
Melissa always loved bright things. Well, I was struck all of a heap when
I saw she had it. I didn’t know what to do. In a way it was stealing, but
not for Melissa. She didn’t mean to steal it. She just couldn’t help
taking it once she saw it. I love my daughter. Nobody shall ever say I
don’t. Anyhow, here’s your gold box back and I’m going to clear out and
Melissa has gone with that good detective woman. That’s all. From George
Clayton.’”_
There was a little silence following the reading of the strange letter.
“But it isn’t all,” said Arden, looking at Dimitri. “How did he get you
and hold you a prisoner?”
“I suppose that is my part to explain,” said Dimitri. “Well, it shall not
take me long. First we shall begin with Olga.”
“Who is she?” burst out Sim impulsively.
“She is my talented but spendthrift sister,” said Dimitri with a little
embarrassed laugh. “She always claimed to have an interest, and right, in
the snuffbox, which once belonged to the late lamented Czar, but that was
not so. I mean she had no interest in it. That box was mine alone. That
is what we often quarreled about. My brother Serge, with whom you say you
got in touch, can bear me out in this. I sent for him when Olga
became—well, rather troublesome,” he said with a smile.
“So,” he resumed, “one day I came back here, after having been out in the
marsh sketching, to find my cupboard broken open and my box gone. I was
thunderstruck. Of course I suspected my sister. But before I had time to
do anything, this Clayton man came on board with the box. He said his
daughter had taken my treasure, as she often did with bright things, not
knowing their value, and he had come to restore it. He asked me not to
have her arrested or to prosecute her as he would give me the box back.
“But there I made a mistake.” Again Dimitri shrugged his expressive
shoulders. “I was naturally resentful at being robbed, even by poor
Melissa, who, I understand, is not wholly responsible. So I flared up and
said the guilty must be punished; that the law must take its course. Yes,
we Russians are too temperamental—I admit that. I said I would see that
no real harm came to the girl but that she must be sent away and taught
to do the right.”
“He didn’t like that, not for a cent, and it takes ten shillings to make
a pound,” interpolated Mr. Reilly.
“You are right,” agreed Dimitri, evidently not bored by this cross
quotation. “At once Mr. Clayton, what you call, flared up. Before I could
avoid him, he had attacked me. He is a big man. He had me at a
disadvantage, and before I could do anything he had put part of a fish
net over my head, for all the world like the old Roman gladiators.” He
laughed a little, for he had brewed some tea in his samovar, and the
sipping of it appeared to revive him more than anything else. “So he had
me helpless.”
“But Tania,” interrupted Sim. “Where was she?”
“He must have suddenly planned his attack,” resumed Dimitri, “for when he
carried me away, half unconscious as I was, I dimly saw Tania tied and
lying on the deck. He must, a little while before, have given her some
drugged meat. He didn’t take time to make friends with her and entice her
away.”
“But just what did Clayton do to you?” asked Terry.
“He threatened after the net was over me, to take me away and keep me
away if I did not promise to let Melissa go unharmed. I would not
promise. I felt it was for the girl’s own good that I be instrumental in
sending her to some institution. I was stubborn. He grew very angry. I
tried to hit him. He hit me. It all went black before my eyes, and when I
awoke, I was bound and my mouth was tied, in the place where you found
me.”
“Oh, how terrible,” said Arden.
“Such a brute!” declared Terry.
“You should have shouted for help,” argued Sim.
“I tried to, dear young lady, but one cannot shout with one’s mouth
bundled up like a muff. So I remained a prisoner. At times the man came
down to me and opened my mouth that I might eat, but he stood over me
with a gun so I dared not shout. But his place is so isolated that it
would have done no good if I had. Each time he said he would let me go if
I would promise. But I would not promise. I assure you we Russians are
very stubborn.” Even now he seemed proud of it, and the girls rather
liked him for it.
“You couldn’t trick him out of it?” asked Mr. Reilly.
“Trick?” Dimitri questioned.
“I mean promise and then get out and later do as you pleased.”
“The Uzlovs never do that, sir! I beg of you! Yes!”
“Oh, well, all right. You can’t go two ways at the same time,” said the
chief, grinning. “What else happened?”
“Nothing. I stayed in the cellar closet. Clayton maintained me bound and
gagged as you saw. Once he came to me to say he had gone back to my boat
to restore my beautiful box. But, as he was about to put it in the broken
cupboard, he was surprised by you girls and my brother Serge coming on
board. So Clayton leaped over the rail in great haste. I suppose you did
not then see him or my box?”
“We heard a noise,” said Terry, “and saw a man jump off your boat, but we
didn’t even guess who was leaving the _Merry Jane_ in such a rush. And to
think at that time the snuffbox was on the point of being given back. If
we only had known!”
“Perhaps it is as well,” said Dimitri with rather a wan smile. “If the
box had been put back then, and my sister Olga, she of the so spendthrift
habits, had paid another visit, she might have then taken it. And if she
knew this Clayton had it, without doubt she would have so raged at him
that she would have secured it. So it is all well as it is. Also Mr.
Clayton told me something else. It seems my beautiful but desperate
sister tried to bribe poor Melissa, with auto rides and some money and
trinkets, to get the box for her. But that plot did not quite come off.
It may have been Olga’s talk, speaking of my box in the cupboard, that
caused Melissa to take it for herself.”
“And she got your tie pin, also,” said Arden.
“Oh, yes, but I have that back.” He showed it to them. “Mr. Clayton gave
it to me. He said his daughter had picked it up off the floor in my paint
room. It is very possible. Poor Melissa!”
“But how did Clayton and his daughter come to go away and leave you tied
in the cellar?” asked the chief. “If it hadn’t been for the way your dog
barked, we might never have found you.”
“Oh, yes. That I can explain. Good Tania!” He pulled her silky ears.
“Only last night,” Dimitri went on, “Mr. Clayton came to my prison cell
and told me he was then leaving to go to the _Merry Jane_ and, under the
cover of darkness, restore my box.”
“And he did!” exclaimed Sim. “Some virtue in him, anyhow.”
“Yes,” agreed the artist. “Also he told me that matters were all now
settled. He did not require any promise from me, for he told me his
daughter was going away with her aunt and he would separate from her.
Perhaps that is not so?” He looked questioningly at the girls.
“Oh, yes, that part is true,” said Arden.
“I am so glad. The poor child! Well, Mr. Clayton went on to say that he
was shuffling off, as he expressed it, though why shuffle, I do not know.
Nevertheless, he said he and his daughter were going away. But he felt he
had to protect himself. So he said he would not release me then. But when
he was safely far enough away, he would telephone to you, sir, the head
of the Metropolitan Police here, and tell you to come and unbind me.”
Dimitri bowed to Mr. Reilly.
“First I heard about that,” said the chief. “I didn’t get no telephone
call. Out of sight sours no cream.”
“Maybe a message has come since you started out with us,” suggested Sim.
“Maybe it has; better late than never get to the fair.”
“Oh——” Sim began, but she repressed herself.
“So you see how it all happened,” concluded Dimitri. “I was taken
unawares, kept prisoner even when my lovely box was restored, and all
because I was such a stickler for a principle. Yes, we Russians are very
stubborn. But, to say the truth, I was on the point of agreeing to what
Mr. Clayton wanted me to, about not being instrumental in having his
daughter sent away, when he told me he had arranged for my release, so it
is just as well. I have my pride left.”
“But you must have suffered,” said Terry.
“One must always suffer for one’s pride. Yes?”
There was little else to tell. The _Merry Jane_ seemed like her old self
again with Dimitri and Tania on board. The Russian drank more tea and
offered glasses to his guests.
“What are you thinking of, Arden?” asked Sim, noticing that her chum was
scarcely sipping her tea and had a dreamy far-away look in her eyes.
“I was wondering,” came the answer, and Arden addressed Dimitri, “if you
were down in the cellar of the Clayton shack the time we went to it, with
your brother and Melissa, to get the box she said she had. Did you hear
us talking or moving around up above you?”
“No, I can’t say I did,” the Russian replied. “But that is easily
accounted for. I dozed or slept much of the time. More than once I think
Clayton put some quieting potion in my food or drink, for I seemed always
to have a heavy, sleepy feeling. No, I didn’t know how near you were.”
“If we had only known then,” said Terry, “we could have made a thrilling
rescue. But we didn’t. Or if we had taken Tania she would have discovered
you. A pity we didn’t.”
“Yes,” agreed Arden.
“Please do not reproach yourselves,” said Dimitri. “I am too much in your
debt to allow that. It is all over now.”
“Another thing I wonder about,” said Arden. “You know when we went to the
shack with Melissa after she promised to restore the box, and it wasn’t
where she said she had hidden it, she was, or appeared to be, greatly
surprised. I wonder if she was acting or if she knew her father had taken
the treasure?”
“I don’t believe Melissa could act that much, though she is very clever
at times,” said Terry. “I don’t believe she suspected her father had
taken the box from where she had concealed it. And it would be well
within reason, considering her character, for her to have thought that
perhaps she had forgotten where she had put the box. You know, when we
first talked with her father, after he wouldn’t let her keep the
bracelet, he said she often took trifling bright objects and hid them all
around the house. He said she often forgot where she had hidden her
simple treasures and would go looking for them day after day. Then she
would suddenly recall the place and be happy again. So in this case
Melissa might have thought that, after putting the box in her poor little
bureau, she herself had removed it and couldn’t recall where it was.”
“Yes, that would account for it,” Sim said.
“It’s very possible,” Arden agreed. “It is all very strange. The poor
girl certainly needs careful and regular training. I’m so glad this aunt
of hers remembers her in time.”
“I wonder if Melissa knew you were down in the cellar?” asked Sim.
Dimitri shrugged his shoulders, answering: “It is difficult to say. I
don’t know just when her father told her what he had done. I believe,
though, it was only a short time before they both left.”
“It’s queer Melissa didn’t discover you,” spoke Arden.
“No, not when you consider what sort of a girl she is,” replied Sim. “She
was always coming and going, wandering like a wild spirit. I don’t
believe she saw much of her father. He could easily keep his secret from
her.”
“I believe he did,” said the Russian. “It is strange to think that once
you were all so close to me, and again so near to getting the box when
Clayton brought it back but was frightened away. Very strange. But, Mr.
Reilly, I am neglecting you. Let me give you some more tea, if you
please.”
“Not for me,” said the chief. “Coffee sets me up better. It is the cup
which cheers but doesn’t give you the jitters.” He laughed. “And now, if
there’s no arrests to be made, I guess we might as well call it a day,
wind the clock, and put the cat out.” He laughed again.
“Your brother will be anxious about you,” said Arden. “You should let him
know, Mr. Uzlov.”
“I shall. At once.”
“We are going back,” said Terry. “We could send him a telegram. In fact,
we did.”
“You did?”
“I mean before we found you,” and Arden’s ruse was detailed.
“Oh, how clever of you, my dear young ladies. Yes, I must let Serge know.
If you will be so good. His address——”
He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a paper with the house number in
Ninth Street.
“That will save time,” said Arden. “We will wire him. You must need a
rest.”
“Oh, a rest will be most delightful,” said the artist. “I must get in
condition to finish—that.” He waved toward the covered canvas.
“I haven’t yet thanked you,” murmured Arden.
“It is I who must thank you, dear young lady,” and he murmured something
in Russian, translating: “It is the subject, not the picture, to whom the
artist is indebted.”
The chief showed a desire to be gone. Doubtless to learn if that
telephone from Clayton had come into his garage.
“We must be going,” said Terry.
“But we shall see you again,” added Sim.
“Marshlands will be a place for a real vacation, now that there is no
mystery to solve,” said Arden, laughing a little.
“I thank you.” Dimitri bowed very formally. “And, if you will be so good,
include in your telegram to my brother the fact that I am going to sell
the snuffbox and give Olga the share she thinks she ought to have. Poor
girl! She must not suffer because of my love for a relic. I shall sell
the box.”
“Oh,” murmured Arden. “That lovely box!”
“It will still be lovely, no matter who possesses it,” said Dimitri. “And
now I must rest.”
Truly he was very weary, for his imprisonment in the dank cellar had told
on his nerves. But he said he needed no attention; that he and Tania
would be all right for the remainder of their stay on the _Merry Jane_.
He did need a little fresh food, however, and Chief Reilly promised to
bring some back in his motorboat.
So, with bows from Dimitri, tail-wagging from Tania, and hand-flutterings
from the girls, while the chief demonstrated his gold-tooth grin, the
visitors came away. They went back to get Terry’s boat, and then the
girls, being towed by the chief to the dock of “Buckingham Palace,”
hastened to tell Mrs. Landry the news.
“Well, fancy that!” she exclaimed. “I hope it is all true about Melissa.”
It was true, as they learned a few days later, for a letter arrived from
Emma Tash confirming everything, and with it there was a little note from
Melissa. Of course Emma Tash knew nothing about the prisoner in the
cellar, and Melissa was forced into silence by her father. She did not
know, as a matter of fact, until the last few days of the imprisonment,
that her father had captured Dimitri. If she had known, she probably
would have told the girls.
“But everything is all right now,” said Arden as she and her chums sat on
the warm sands after a dip in the ocean.
“Yes,” said Terry, “the mystery is over.”
“And it was a good one while it lasted,” declared Sim. “See what Arden
gets out of it.”
“What?” asked Arden, letting sand flow through her tanned fingers.
“Lovely picture.”
“Oh, that!”
“Will your folks let you take it?” asked Terry.
“Oh, yes. They didn’t make any fuss at all when I told them.”
“I don’t know what Dimitri would have done if they had,” laughed Sim.
“Oh, he _is_ such an interesting character.”
“So is the chief, if you come to that,” spoke Terry.
“It’s a long lane that has no back door,” chuckled Arden. And then she
ducked to avoid a clam shell tossed at her by Sim.
“In a way it’s rather sad,” said Terry dreamily, after a long, thoughtful
pause.
“What?” asked Sim.
“Having a mystery end. I wonder if we’ll ever be involved in another?”
“Maybe,” said Sim.
And the girls were. In the succeeding volume, _The Hermit of Pirate
Light_, will be told what happened when the girls spent another summer
together.
Several times during the remainder of the season at Marshlands, Arden and
her chums visited Dimitri at his houseboat. He finished Arden’s portrait,
which was later exhibited in New York, and the fact was made the occasion
for a little party attended by Olga and Serge. Olga seemed a much
different person, now that she had some money from the sale of the Czar’s
snuffbox, which brought a very large sum. Dimitri also gave his brother
part of the price. As for himself, he never seemed to care about money.
“My art is everything,” he said. Truly it seemed so.
Chief Reilly, who was a guest at the “picture party,” as it was called,
admitted that George Clayton had left a telephone message telling about
his prisoner and urging that he be released.
“But, shucks,” said the chief, “you can’t make a silk purse out of a
sow’s ear.”
“If he says that again,” threatened Sim, “I’ll run home.”
But the chief didn’t.
THE END
Transcriber’s Notes
--The book's actual title is “Missing at Marshlands”, not “Missing at the
Marshlands” as on the cover.
--Silently corrected a few typos (but left nonstandard spelling and
dialect as is).
--Rearranged front matter to a more-logical streaming order.