CHAPTER XXIV The Man Arrives
Emma Tash was a very efficient woman. No sooner had the crabbing plan ofapproaching the Clayton shack been decided upon than she lifted up asmall black bag which she had set beside her chair.
"If we are going crabbing," she said with a smile, "I have my disguise inhere."
"Disguise!" repeated the girls in a chorus.
Truly things were developing fast at Marshlands.
A detective woman!
A disguise!
Arden's eyes sparkled.
"It isn't much of a disguise," went on Emma Tash. "We women investigatorsdon't go in much for that sort of thing. Some of our men do, though. Butwhen I knew I had to come down to the seashore, naturally I thought ofbathing, fishing, or crabbing.
"Now, I'm not very fond of ocean bathing, so I passed up that suit. Idon't know how to fish, but I do know how to crab, and I used to do itwhen I was a girl. So I brought my crabbing disguise with me."
"What in the world is a crabbing disguise?" asked Terry, as their visitorlaughed. "George Clayton doesn't wear one."
"It's just an old dress I don't care what happens to," said Emma Tash,"and an old-fashioned sunbonnet. With that on, I defy anyone who sees mein it to recognize me afterward if I dress as I am now."
"Oh, that sort of a disguise," laughed Terry. "Well, I guess that will beall right. And we had better start," she added. "Time is passing, and Iwant to be back here to help receive our visitor."
"I will be as quick as I can," Emma Tash said. "If I could go somewhereto change my dress----"
"I'll show you," offered Mrs. Landry. "Come with me, please."
While the visitor was upstairs, the girls, in breathless whispers,discussed her and her errand. They agreed that the plan they had adoptedwas the best one possible in the circumstances.
"Only," sighed Terry who, in a sense, was offering herself as asacrifice, "I do hope Serge Uzlov doesn't arrive until I get back."
"We'll keep him for you," promised Arden.
Emma Tash certainly was a very different person in her crabbing disguise.She looked the part of a back-country native to perfection. She and Terrywere soon off in the boat, provided with a net, a peach basket to holdthe crabs, and some old pieces of meat, on strings, for bait.
Sim and Arden watched Terry row away in the direction of the Claytonshack.
"And now we'll just have to sit here and wait," sighed Arden as Terry andher passenger disappeared around a point.
"We could go in swimming," suggested Sim, ever mindful of her ambition tobecome an expert in aquatic sports.
"Then let's. It will make the time pass quicker. After all, I don'tbelieve he can get here until late afternoon. There aren't many shoretrains out of New York until near the commuting hour," said Arden.
So Sim and Arden put on their suits and went in for a dip. But it wasrather too cool for real enjoyment in the water, and they soon came outand sunned themselves on the sand.
Meanwhile Terry, with her usual skill at the oars, was sending the boatalong at good speed toward their objective.
"Mustn't row too fast now, though," she told Emma Tash when she was nearthe Clayton shack. "Crabbers usually just anchor, put the bait over theside, and wait for bites."
"I know," said the detective woman. "I've done it often enough. Butcrabbers often haul up the anchor and go from place to place looking forbetter luck. In that way we can gradually approach without anysuspicions."
"I think so," Terry agreed.
She rowed on until they were within view of the place where Melissalived. There was no sign of life about the shack or its outbuildings.Whether Melissa had returned home after meeting the girls in the drugstore, Terry had no way of finding out.
"Perhaps we'd better stop here," suggested Emma Tash. "I can make anobservation while you put some bait over the side."
"Observation?" questioned Terry.
"Yes. With these. We find them useful on cases."
Emma Tash produced from a pocket in her crabbing dress a binocular, andas Terry threw the little anchor over, Emma Tash focused the glass on theClayton shack.
The boat had drifted the length of the anchor rope with the incomingtide, which is always best for crabbing, and Terry was putting over thefirst bit of bait when the detective woman lowered the binocular andsaid:
"Not a sign of life. I guess there's nobody home."
"Melissa would hardly have had time to get here since we saw her in thedrug store," said Terry. "And very likely her father is out in his boat."
"Then we'll just have to wait and trust to luck," was the decision ofEmma Tash. "I'd like to see the girl alone."
They began to crab in earnest now. For, after all, George Clayton mightbe lurking about his place and see them. For a time Terry really enteredinto the enjoyment of their occupation, for the crabs were biting welland she landed a number of big blue-clawed ones, while her companion didlikewise.
Now and then they would net a "mammy," her apron bulging with a clusterof yellow eggs ready to be deposited in some clump of the lettuce-likeseaweed. These "mammy" crabs were always thrown back to aid in thepropagation of future generations.
"I think we had better move a little--a little closer," suggested thedetective in a low voice after a half hour of good luck. "I want to takeanother look."
"Yes," Terry agreed. She pulled up the anchor, but this time thepolicewoman did the rowing, and she rowed well. Terry envied her skill.
Again they anchored, but this time they had picked a poor location andcaught nothing. Inspection through the glass still revealed no sign oflife about the place. It appeared silent and deserted.
"I think we can chance going a bit closer," said Emma Tash after anotherhalf hour. "If I don't see anything then, I believe I'll take a chanceand land. I'll walk up to the place. Melissa may be asleep in there."
"I hardly think so," said Terry. "But you can try."
They hoisted the anchor again, moved nearer the place, and once more theglass was used.
"I can't see a sign of anybody," Emma Tash declared. "I'm going upthere."
Once more Terry pulled up the mud-hook, and again the oars were used bythe detective. But just as she was easing up, in preparation to lettingthe boat glide up the mucky beach, a man's voice called:
"Keep away from here! I don't let nobody land!"
George Clayton suddenly appeared in front of his shack, holding a longpole.
"Get away!" he cried. "This is a private beach! You can crab all you wantto out there, but don't land. I've warned you!"
"Well, that's that," said Terry in a low voice. She held her head down.In spite of the fact that she was wearing a big straw hat, she feared theman might recognize her.
But Emma Tash did not give up so easily.
"Can't we land and get a drink of water?" she called.
"No! Keep off!"
"Very well."
There was nothing for it but to row away, and this they did.
"But I'm not giving up," said the detective when they were on their wayback to "Buckingham Palace." Terry wondered if Serge were there. "I'll goback to New York and suggest a different method," Emma Tash said. "Thegirl's aunt is anxious to do something for the child, and her brute of afather shouldn't be allowed to stand in the way."
"Of course not," Terry agreed.
She rowed fast back to the little dock, and her first unasked questionwas answered, as Sim and Arden who came down to meet her, with Arden'sremark:
"He hasn't arrived yet."
"Well, I'm glad I didn't miss him," Terry said.
Emma Tash changed back into her regular dress, put the crabbing disguiseinto her bag and, thanking them all for the help, started for thevillage, saying she would take a train back to New York.
"But I'm coming here again," she said. "And if you get a chance I wishyou would let Melissa know that her aunt wants to help her."
"We will," Terry promised.
>
It was now late afternoon, and the girls, nervous with the tension, saton the porch, waiting. Not for anything would they now go far away fromthe house. The "man from New York" might arrive any minute.
"Oh, dear," Sim wailed. "Isn't this suspense awful? If that man doesn'tcome soon, I'll----"
"It's almost five o'clock," Arden said, looking at her watch. "He oughtto get here soon."
"You youngsters will be nervous wrecks," Mrs. Landry remarked as Terrypaced restlessly up and down the front porch. "Can't you find somethingto do?"
"I can't sit still long enough to do anything," Terry replied.
"Listen!" Arden cautioned. "Isn't that a car?"
Instantly there was quiet. They all strained their ears to hear the soundof bumping wheels.
"Yes!" Terry exclaimed. "Come on!"
Flinging open the screen door of the porch she raced around to the back,where the yellow sand road stretched. Sim and Arden followed close behindher.
They stood like pointers, immobile, while the car approached. It reachedthe gate and stopped. The side door was opened, and a polished shoe wasthrust out. Then the whole man appeared, and the girls gasped audibly. Itwas the dark young man who had rowed himself over to the houseboat whenthey last heard from Dimitri!
Missing at Marshlands Page 24