“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.