OUT IN THE DARK
All the next day the girls waited and watched, but Gibralter Strait
appeared neither on land nor on sea to explain his queer actions. Their
hostess asked Dories to read to her and so the morning was passed in that
way. Nann, busy at a piece of fancy work she was making for a Christmas
present, sat listening. In the afternoon the girls were told to amuse
themselves. This they did by climbing to the “tip-top rock,” sitting
there in the balmy sun and speculating about the old ruin; about the
reason for Gib’s sudden departure for his home the day before, and about
the boy and girl who had sailed away on the Phantom Yacht. It was not
until a fog, filmy at first, but rapidly increasing in density, began to
hide the sun that they thought of returning homewards. As they passed the
cabin nearest the rocks, Dories said, “This is the Burton cottage, I
suppose. I wonder if Dick is our kind of boy?”
“Meaning what?” Nann wondered.
“O, you know as well as I do. I like Gib, of course. He’s a splendid boy,
but he hasn’t had a chance. I merely meant a boy from families like our
own.”
“I rather think so,” Nann replied, as she gazed at the boarded-up cabin.
Then suddenly she stopped and stared at one of the upper windows. The
blind had opened ever so slightly and then had closed again, but of this
Nann said nothing. She was afraid that she was becoming almost as
imaginative as Dories. Then suddenly she recalled something. Gib had said
that his father had seen a light in the old ruin the night before. And
what was more, she and Dories _knew_ there had been someone carrying a
lantern on the beach near the rocks at least twice since they had been
there. What if the lantern-carrier hid in the Burton cottage during the
day? He couldn’t live in the old ruin, since it had only one wall
standing.
Luckily, Dories had been interested in watching the waves breaking at her
feet. Turning, she called, “O, but it’s getting cold and damp. Let’s run
the rest of the way.”
When they reached their home cabin, Nann went at once to inquire if Miss
Moore wished her supper. The girl was sure that she heard a scurrying
noise in the old woman’s room. The door was closed and there was silence
for a brief moment before she was told to enter. Puzzled, Nann glanced
quickly at the bed and noted that the old woman’s cap was awry. She also
saw something else that puzzled her, but she merely said, “What would you
like tonight with your tea, Miss Moore?”
“Nothing at all but toast, and tell Dories to be sure it doesn’t burn. I
don’t relish it when it has been scraped.” The tone in which this was
said was impatient and fretful. It was evident that the old woman was not
in as pleasant a mood as she had seemed to be in the morning.
Returning to the kitchen, where the kettle was already boiling, Nann made
the tea and toasted the bread as well as she could over the blaze; then
Dories arranged her aunt’s tray attractively and took it in to her. While
she was gone, Nann stood staring out of the window at the gathering dusk.
She believed she had a clue to one of the mysteries surrounding them, but
decided not to tell her friend until she was a little more certain about
it herself.
When Dories returned to the kitchen she said, “Day-dreaming, Nann?”
“No, dusk-dreaming,” was the smiling reply; then, “Now let’s get our
evening repast. What shall it be?”
Together they looked in the closet, each selecting a canned vegetable and
something for desert. “This is a lazy way to live,” Nann began, when
Dories exclaimed: “Do you realize that we haven’t had one of those notes
today? I believe my bell scared away the ghost after all.”
Nann laughed merrily. “Nary a bit of it, my friend. Didn’t his spooky
highness tie his last note to the bell clapper? I suppose that is why we
didn’t hear it tinkle again.”
“But we haven’t found a note today—O dear!” Dories broke off to exclaim:
“The fire must be going out, Nann,” she called; “you’re the magician when
it comes to stirring up a blaze. What do you suppose is the matter?”
A quick glance within brought the amused answer: “Wood needed, my dear,
that’s all! Which reminds me of Dad’s wondering why the car won’t go when
it’s out of gas.” As she spoke she turned toward the wood box and found
it empty. “Hmm!” she ejaculated, “that means one of us will have to hie
out to the shed after more wood if we want a hot supper.”
Dories, after a swift glance at the black fog-hung window, suggested,
“Let’s change our menu and have a cold spread.”
“Nixy, my dear,” Nann said brightly. “I’ll be wood-carrier. I’ll sally
forth with a lighted lantern, like that mysterious midnight prowler. I
won’t be able to bring in much wood, but I believe a piece or two will
provide all the heat we’ll need to warm up canned things.” She was
lighting the lantern as she talked. The lamp was burning on the kitchen
table, and, while her friend was gone, Dories laid out the dishes and
silver.
Nann, having reached the shed, groped about for the leather thong. To her
surprise the door was not fastened, and, as she stood peering into the
dense blackness, she was sure that she heard a scrambling noise inside.
Then all was still. Nann scratched one of the matches that she had
brought with her. In the far corner stood an empty barrel and in front of
it was piled the wood that she and Dories had gathered on the beach. Not
another thing was to be seen, and although she stood listening intently
for several seconds, not another sound was heard.
“A rat probably,” the girl thought as she placed her lantern on the floor
and picked up several pieces of wood.
Returning to the kitchen, Nann threw her armful of wood into the box near
the stove, when Dories suddenly leaped forward, exclaiming excitedly,
“There it is. There’s the note we have been wondering about.”
“Why—why, so it is!” Nann stared as though she could hardly believe her
eyes. Then, springing up, she cried joyfully: “Dories Moore, we’ve caught
the ghost. He was leaving this paper when I went out. He must still be in
the woodshed somewhere, for I bolted the door on the outside. He must
have been hiding in that old empty barrel when I looked in. Light the
lantern again and let’s go out this minute and see who is there.”
Although Dories was not enthusiastic over the prospect of capturing a
ghost in a woodshed on so dark a fog-damp night, yet, since her companion
was ready to start, she couldn’t refuse to accompany her, and so, after
closing the kitchen door, they stole along the path leading from the
porch to the shed that was nearer the swamp. Suddenly Dories clutched her
friend’s arm, whispering, “Hark. What’s that?”
“It’s the ghost. He’s still in there.” This triumphantly from Nann, the
fearless. “That’s the same scrambling noise that I heard before. Come on.
Don’t be afraid. I’ll throw open the door and at least we’ll see who it
is.”
Leaping forward, Nann unbolted the door and held up the lantern. The shed
was as empty as it had been before, and there was nothing at all in the
barrel.
Dories’ sigh was one of relief, and she fairly darted back to the warm
kitchen, nor did she breathe naturally until the outer door was bolted.
Then Nann inquired, “What did the note say. We forgot to read it?”
Stooping, she took it from under a splinter of wood and, opening it,
read: “In ten days you will know all.”