by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER XVI NIGHT VISITORS
A moment later they were listening to the creak of rusty oarlocks and thealmost inaudible dip-dip of the oars as the child herself sent the boatout from the beach to bring it half about and skirt the shore.
The boat was some sixteen feet long. A clinker-built craft, it was lightand buoyant, but for all that, with three persons aboard, the rowing ofit was a tax on the strength of the child's slender arms. To add to hertroubles, the water began to rubber up a bit. Small waves cameslap-slapping the boat's side. Once a bit of spray broke in Florence'sface.
"Here," she whispered, "it's too heavy for you. Let me have the oars,then you tell me which way to go."
"Straight ahead, only not too close in. There's a wall."
"A wall?" Lucile thought to herself. "Sounds like a prison. There's aparole camp out here somewhere. It can't be!" she shuddered. "No, ofcourse not. What would that old man and child have to do with prisons?"
Then, suddenly an ugly thought forced its way into her mind. Perhapsafter all these two were members of a gang of robbers. Perhaps a memberof the gang had been in prison and was at this moment in the parole camp.What if this turned out to be a jail-breaking expedition?
"No, no!" she whispered as she shook herself to free her mind of thethought.
"There's the wall," whispered Florence, as a gray bulk loomed up to theright of them.
They passed it in silence. To Lucile they seemed like marines running ablockade in time of war.
But Florence was busy with other thoughts. That wall seemed vaguelyfamiliar to her. It was as if she had seen it in a dream, yet could notrecall the details of the dream.
A storm was brewing off in the west. Now and then a distant flash oflightning lighted up the surrounding waters. Of a sudden one of these,more brilliant than the rest, lighted up the shore, which, at a word fromthe child, they were now nearing. What Florence saw was a small,artificially dredged buoy with a dock and large boathouse at the back.
Instantly what had been a dream became a reality. She had seen that walland the little buoy and boathouse as well. Only the summer before she hadspent two nights and a day with a party on the dunes. They had hired amotor boat and had skirted the shore. This place had been pointed out toher and described as the most elaborate and beautiful summer cottage onthe shore.
"Why," she whispered, with a sigh of relief, "this is the summer cottageof your friend, R. Stanley Ramsey, Jr., the young man you saw at FrankMorrow's place and whom we saw later at the mystery cottage. This isn'tany brigandish thieving expedition. It is merely a business trip.Probably the old man has sold him one of his books."
Lucile's first reaction to this news was intense relief. This was not ajail-breaking expedition; in fact, was not to be in any way an adventure.But the next instant doubt came.
"What would that young man be doing in a summer cottage at this time ofyear?" she demanded. "All the cottages must have been closed for nearly amonth. Society flies back to the city in September. Besides, if it'splain business, why all this slipping in at the lake front instead ofpassing through the gate?"
Florence was silent at that. She had no answer.
"Does seem strange," she mused. "There's a very high fence all about theplace, but of course there must be a gate."
The next instant the boat grated on the sandy beach and they were allclimbing out.
Lucile shivered as she caught sight of a large, low, rambling buildingwhich lay well up from the shore.
"What next?" she whispered to herself.
The storm was still rumbling in the west. The sky to the east was clear.Out from the black waters of the lake the moon was rolling. Its lightsuddenly brightened up the shore. The girls stared about them.
Up from the beach a little way was an affair which resembled an Indiantepee. It was built of boards and covered with birch bark. Its whitesides glimmered in the moonlight. Through the shadows of trees andshrubbery they made out a rustic pavilion and beyond that the cottagewhich was built in rustic fashion as befits a summer residence of amillionaire, although little short of a mansion.
"Wouldn't you like to see the inside of it?" breathed Florence. "I'vealways wondered what such a place was like."
"Yes," whispered Lucile, "but I'd prefer daylight."
They had been following the child. She had led them as far as a rusticarbor. Built of cedar poles with the bark left on, this presented itselfas an inviting place to rest.
"You stay here," the child whispered. "I'll come back."
She vanished into the shadows.
"Well!" whispered Lucile.
"What do you make of it?" Florence asked.
"Nothing yet."
"Is someone here to meet her or is she entering the place to getsomething?"
"Don't know. I--"
Lucile stopped short. "Did you see that?" she whispered tensely as shegripped her companion's arm.
"What?"
"There was a flash of light in the right wing of the building, like theflicker of a match."
"She can't have reached there yet."
"No."
"Do you think we should warn her? I can't help thinking she's going tobreak into the place."
"If she is, she should be caught. If we think she is, perhaps we shouldnotify the police."
"The police? In such a place? You forget that we are many miles from thecity and two or three miles from even a railroad station. Guess we'llhave to see it through."
"Let's do it then?"
The two girls rose and began making their way stealthily in the directionthe child had taken.
Now and again they paused to listen. Once they heard a sound like thecreaking of a door. Lucile caught a second flash of light.
They paused behind two pine trees not ten feet from the side entrance.
The wind rustled in the pine trees. The water broke ceaselessly on theshore. Otherwise all was silence.
"Creepy," whispered Lucile.
"Ghostly," Florence shivered.
"I believe that door's ajar."
"It is."
"Let's creep up close."
The next moment found them flattened against the wall beside the door.
This door stood half open. Suddenly they caught a flash of light. Leaningfar over to peer within, they saw the child bent over before a hugebookcase. The room, half illumined by her flashlight, was a largelounging room. The trimmings were rustic and massive. Beamed ceiling andheavy beams along the walls were flanked by a huge fireplace at the back.The furniture was in keeping, massive mission oak with leather cushionson chairs.
"What a wonderful place!" Florence whispered. "What wouldn't one give tohave it for a study?"
The child had taken three books from the shelves. All these she replaced.She was examining the fourth when Lucile whispered, "That's the one shehas come for."
"Why?"
"The light fell full upon the inside of the cover. I saw the gargoylethere."
The prediction proved a true one, for, after carefully closing the case,the child switched off the light.
Scarcely realizing what they were doing, the girls lingered by the door.Then suddenly Lucile realized their position. "She'll be here in asecond," she whispered.
They turned, but not quickly enough, for of a sudden a glare of lightfrom a powerful electric flashlight blinded them while a masculine voicewith a distinctly youthful ring to it demanded:
"Who's there?"
To their consternation, the girls felt the child bump into them as shebacked away and there they all stood framed in a circle of light.
The glaring light with darkness behind it made it impossible for them tosee the new arrival but Lucile knew instantly from the voice that it wasthe millionaire's son.
For a full moment no one spoke. The tick-tock of a prodigious clock inone corner of the room sounded out like the ringing of a curfew.
"Oh! I see," came at last in youthful tones from the co
rner; "just somegirls. And pretty ones, too, I'll be bound. Came to borrow a book, didyou? Who let you in, I wonder. But never mind. Suppose you're here for aweek-end at one of the cottages and needed some reading matter. Ratherunconventional way of getting it, but it's all right. Just drop it in themail box at the gate when you're done with it."
The girls suddenly became conscious of the fact that the child was doingher best to push them out of the door.
Yielding to her backward shoves, they sank away into the shadows and,scarcely believing their senses, found themselves apparently quite freeto go their way.
"That," breathed Florence, "was awful decent of him."
"Decent?" Lucile exploded. "It--it was grand. Look here," she turnedalmost savagely upon the child, "you didn't intend to give that book backbut you're going to do it. You're going to put it in that mail boxto-night."
"Oh, no, I'm not," the child said cheerfully.
"You--you're not?" Lucile stammered. "What right have you to keep it?"
"What right has he? It does not belong to him. It belongs to Monsieur LeBon."
"Why, that's nonsense! That--" Lucile broke off suddenly. "Look!" sheexclaimed. "The boat's gone!"
It was all too true. They had reached the beach where they had left theboat. It had vanished.
"So we are prisoners after all," Florence whispered.
"And, and he was just making fun of us. He knew we couldn't get away,"breathed Lucile, sinking hopelessly down upon the sand.