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THE SLIPPER POINT MYSTERY
"Why, it's a room!" she gasped]
THE SLIPPER POINT MYSTERY
BYAUGUSTA HUIELL SEAMAN
Author of "Three Sides of Paradise Green," "TheGirl Next Door," "The Sapphire Signet," etc.
ILLUSTRATED BYC. M. RELYEA
NEW YORKTHE CENTURY CO.1921
Copyright, 1919, byTHE CENTURY CO.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I THE ENCOUNTER 3 II THE ACQUAINTANCE RIPENS 18 III SALLY CAPITULATES 32 IV ON SLIPPER POINT 43 V MYSTERY 55 VI WORKING AT THE RIDDLE 65 VII THE FIRST CLUE 77 VIII ROUNDTREE'S 87 IX DORIS HAS A NEW THEORY 102 X BEHIND THE CEDAR PLANK 116 XI SOME BITS OF ROUNDTREE HISTORY 131 XII LIGHT DAWNS ON MISS CAMILLA 141 XIII WORD FROM THE PAST 164 XIV THE REAL BURIED TREASURE 178 XV THE SUMMER'S END 198
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"Why, it's a room!" she gasped _Frontispiece_ She led the others up the cellar steps 128 "Why, there's nothing there but numbers" 160 They sat together in the canoe 198
THE SLIPPER POINT MYSTERY
CHAPTER I
THE ENCOUNTER
She sat on the prow of a beached rowboat, digging her bare toes in thesand.
There were many other rowboats drawn up on the sandy edge of theriver,--as many as twenty or thirty, not to speak of the green and redcanoes lying on the shore, bottoms up, like so many strange insects. Alarge number of sailboats were also anchored near the shore or drawn upto the long dock that stretched out into the river.
For this was Carter's Landing, the only place on lovely little ManituckRiver where pleasure-boats could be hired. Beside the long dock therewas, up a wide flight of steps, a large pavilion where one could sitand watch the lights and shadows on the river and its many littleactivities. There were long benches and tables to accommodatepicnic-parties and, in an inner room, a counter where candies, ice creamand soda-water were dispensed. And lastly, one part of the big pavilionwas used as a dancing-floor where, afternoons and evenings, to the musicof a violin and piano, merry couples whirled and circled.
Down on the sand was a signboard which said:
"CHILDREN MUST NOT PLAY IN THE BOATS."
Nevertheless, she sat on the prow of one, this girl of fourteen, diggingher bare toes aimlessly in the sand, and by her side on the prow-seatsat a tiny child of about three, industriously sucking the thumb of herright hand, while she pulled at a lock of her thick straight hair withher left. So she sat, saying nothing, but staring contentedly out overthe water. The older girl wore a blue skirt and a soiled whitemiddy-blouse. She had dark brown eyes and thick auburn hair, hangingdown in a ropelike braid. Her face was somewhat freckled, and apart fromher eyes and hair she was not particularly pretty.
The afternoon was hot, though it was only the early part of June, andthere was no one else about except one or two helpers of the Landing.The girl stared moodily out over the blue river, and dug her bare toesdeeper into the sand.
"Stop sucking your thumb, Genevieve!" she commanded suddenly, and thebaby hastily removed the offending member from her mouth. But a momentlater, when the older girl's attention was attracted elsewhere, shequietly slipped it back again.
Presently, from around the bend of the river, there slid into sight ared canoe, paddled vigorously by one person sitting in the stern. Thegirl in the prow of the rowboat sat up and stared intently at theapproaching canoe.
"There it is," she announced to her younger sister. "The first canoeDad's hired this season. Wonder who has it?" The baby made no reply andplacidly continued to suck her thumb, her older sister being tooabsorbed to notice the forbidden occupation.
The canoe approached nearer, revealing its sole occupant to be a girl offourteen or fifteen, clad in a dazzlingly white and distinctly tailoredlinen Russian blouse suit, with a pink satin tie, her curly golden hairsurmounted by an immense bow of the same hue. She beached her canoeskilfully not six feet away from the rowboat of the occupied prow. Andas she stepped out, further details of her costume could be observed infine white silk stockings and dainty patent leather pumps. Scarcelystopping to drag her canoe up further than a few inches on the sand, shehurried past the two in the rowboat and up the broad steps to thepavilion.
"You'd better drag up your canoe further," called out the barefootedgirl. "It'll float away if you leave it like that."
"Oh, I'm coming right back!" replied the other. "I'm only stopping amoment to get some candy." She disappeared into the pavilion and wasout again in two minutes, bearing a large box of candy, of the mostexpensive make boasted by Carter's Landing. Down the steps she tripped,and crossed the strip of sand toward her canoe. But in front of theoccupied rowboat she stopped, drawn perhaps by the need of companionshipon this beautiful but solitary afternoon.
"Have some?" she asked, proffering the open box of candy. The barefootedgirl's eyes sparkled.
"Why, yes, thanks!" she answered, and gingerly helped herself to onesmall piece.
"Oh, take some more! There's plenty!" declared her companion, emptyingfully a quarter of the box into her new friend's lap. "And give some tothe baby." The younger child smiled broadly, removed her thumb from hermouth and began to munch ecstatically on a large piece of chocolateproffered by her sister.
"You're awfully kind," remarked the older girl between two bites, "butwhat'll your mother say?"
"Why, she won't care. She gave me the money and told me to go get it andamuse myself. It's awfully dull up at the hotel. It's so early in theseason that there's almost nobody else there,--only two old ladies and afew men that come down at night,--besides Mother and myself. I hategoing to the country so early, before things start, only Mother has beensick and needed the change right away. So here we are--and I'm as dullas dishwater and _so_ lonesome! What's your name?"
The other girl had been drinking in all this information with suchgreedy interest that she scarcely heard or heeded the question whichended it. Without further questioning she realized that this newacquaintance was a guest at "The Bluffs," the one exclusive andfashionable hotel on the river. She at once became guiltily conscious ofher own bare brown toes, still wriggling in the warm sand. She blamedherself fiercely for not taking the trouble to put on her shoes andstockings that afternoon. Up till this moment it had scarcely seemedworth while.
"Tell me, what's your name?" the girl in white and pink reiterated.
"Sarah," she answered, "but most every one calls me Sally. What'syours?"
"Doris Craig," was the reply and the girl of the bare toes unconsciouslynoted that "Doris" was an entirely fitting name for so dainty acreature. And somehow she dreaded to answer the question as to her own.
"My name's horrid," she added, "and I always did hate it. But baby's ispretty,--Genevieve. Mother named her that, 'cause Father had insistedthat mine must be 'Sarah,' after his mother. She said she was going tohave one pret
ty name in the family, anyway. Genevieve, take your thumbout of your mouth!"
"Why do you tell her to do that?" demanded Doris, curiously.
"'Cause Mother says it'll make her mouth a bad shape if she keeps it up,and she told me it was up to me to stop it. You see I have Genevievewith me most of the time. Mother's so busy." But by this time, Doris'sroving eye had caught the sign forbidding children to play in theboats.
"Do you see that?" she asked. "Aren't you afraid to be sitting around inthat boat?"
"Huh!" exclaimed Sally scornfully. "That doesn't mean Genevieve and me."
"Why not?" cried Doris perplexedly.
"'Cause we belong here. Captain Carter's our father. All these boatsbelong to him. Besides, it's so early in the season that it doesn'tmatter anyway. Even we don't do it much in July and August."
"Oh!" exclaimed Doris, a light beginning to break on her understanding."Then that--er--lady up at the candy counter is your mother?" Shereferred to the breathlessly busy, pleasant, though anxious-faced womanwho had sold her the candy.
"Yes. She's awfully busy all the time, 'cause she has to wait on thesoda and candy and ice cream, and see that the freezer's working allright, and a lot of other things. In July and August we have to havegirls from the village to help. We don't see much of her in thesummer,--Genevieve and I. We just have to take care of ourselves. Andthat's Dad, down on the dock." She pointed to a tall, lanky, slouchilydressed man who was directing the lowering of a sail in one of thecat-boats.
"Yes, I know Captain Carter," averred Doris. "I hired this canoe ofhim."
"Did you go and hire a canoe--all by yourself?" inquired Sally, eyeingher very youthful new acquaintance with some wonder. "How did yourmother come to let you?"
"Well, you see Mother's been awfully sick and she isn't at all well yet.Has to stay in bed a good deal of the day and just sits around on theveranda the rest of the time. _She_ couldn't tend to things like that,so I've got used to doing them myself lately. I dress myself and fix myhair all by myself, without the least help from her,--which I couldn'tdo three months ago. I did it today. Don't you think I look all right?"
Again Sally flushed with the painful consciousness of her own unkemptappearance, especially her bare feet. "Oh, yes! You look fine," sheacknowledged sheepishly. And then added, as a concession to her ownattire:
"I hate to get all dressed up these hot days, 'specially when there's noone around. Mother often makes me during 'the season,' 'cause she saysit looks bad for the Landing to see us children around so sloppy."
"My mother says," remarked Doris, "that one always feels better to benicely and cleanly dressed, especially in the afternoons, if you canmanage it. You feel so much more self-respecting. I often hate to botherto dress, too, but I always do it to please her."
Sally promptly registered the mental vow that she would hereafter arrayherself and Genevieve in clean attire every single afternoon, or perishin the attempt. But clothes was not a subject that ever interested DorisCraig for any length of time, so she soon switched to another.
"Can't you and the baby come out with me in my canoe for a while?" shesuggested. "I'm so lonesome. And perhaps you know how to paddle. Youcould sit in the bow, and Genevieve in the middle."
"Yes, I know how to paddle," admitted Sally. To tell the truth she knewhow to run every species of boat her father owned, not even omitting thesteam launches. "But we can't take Genevieve in a canoe. She won't sitstill enough and Mother has forbidden it. Let's go out in my rowboatinstead. Dad lets me use old 45 for myself any time I want, except inthe very rush season. It's kind of heavy and leaks a little, but I canrow it all right." She indicated a boat far down at the end of the line.
"But I can't row!" exclaimed Doris. "I never learned because we'vealways had a canoe up at Lake Placid in the Adirondacks where we'veusually gone."
"Oh, that doesn't matter," laughed Sally. "I can row the whole three.You sit in the stern with Genevieve, and I'll take you around the riverto some places I warrant you've never seen."
Filled with the spirit of the new adventure, the two hurried along,bearing a somewhat reluctant Genevieve between them, and clambered intothe boat numbered "45" at the end of the line. Doris seated herself inthe stern with Genevieve and the box of candy. And the baby was soonshyly cuddling up to her and dipping her chubby little fist into the boxat frequent intervals. Sally established herself in the bow rowing seat,pushed off with a skilful twist of her oars, and was soon swinging outinto the tide with the short, powerful strokes of the native-born toManituck.
It was a perfect June afternoon. The few other boats on the river weremainly those of the native fishermen treading for clams in the shallows,and one or two dipping sailboats. Overhead the fish-hawks sailed andplunged occasionally with a silver flash into the river. The warm scentof the pines was almost overpoweringly sweet, and a robin sanginsistently on the farther shore. Even the thoughtless children wereunconsciously swayed by the quiet beauty of the day and place.
"Do you know," commented Doris, "I like it here. Really I like it a lotbetter than any other place we've ever been. And I've only been here twodays. Do you live here all the year round?"
"Yes, but it isn't half so nice in winter," said Sally; "though theskating's good when it's cold enough. But I get awfully tired of allthis all the time. I'd love to live in New York a while. There's theisland," she indicated. "You can see that from most anywhere on theriver. It's pretty, but there isn't anything much interesting about it.I think I've explored every inch of this river 'cause I've so littleelse to do in the summer. Genevieve and I know more about it than theoldest inhabitant here, I reckon."
There was something about the way she made this last remark that arousedDoris's curiosity.
"Why do you say that?" she demanded. "Of course it's all lovely aroundhere, and up above that bridge it seems rather wild. I went up thereyesterday in the canoe. But what is there to 'know' about this river orits shores? There can't be anything very mysterious about a little NewJersey river like this."
"You wouldn't think so to look at it," said Sally, darkly. "Especiallythis lower part with just the Landing and the hotel and the summerbungalows along the shore. But above the bridge there in the wild part,things are different. Genevieve and I have poked about a bit, haven'twe, Genevieve?" The baby nodded gravely, though it is doubtful if sheunderstood much of her older sister's remark.
"Oh, _do_ tell me what you've found?" cried Doris excitedly. "It allsounds so mysterious. I'm just crazy to hear. Can't you just give me alittle hint about it, Sally?"
But the acquaintance was too new, and the mystery was evidently tooprecious for the other to impart just yet. She shook her heademphatically and replied:
"No, honestly I somehow don't want to. It's Genevieve's secret and mine.And we've promised each other we'd never tell any one about it Haven'twe, Genevieve?"
The baby gravely nodded again, and Sally headed her boat for thewagon-bridge that crossed the upper part of the river.