"Splendid!" exclaimed Arden. "Terry, your mother should be in entire charge of this mystery investigation."

"Oh, no, my dear. None of that for me, if you please," Mrs. Landry laughed.

"But you're helping us so!" murmured Sim.

"This may be no help at all, as it turns out. But I'll go on to the end as far as I can. We'll decide on Ninth Street. That, as you know, is at least partly in what is, or was, the Greenwich Village section of New York.

"I think it safe to say there are Russians there. You know there are artists and writers living there and all sorts of odd tearooms, some undoubtedly of Russian character."

"Oh, we are coming on!" cried Arden. "What next, Mrs. Landry?"

"Well, I should say, from looking at this, that no house number was ever put in front of the street. Whoever wrote this must have known that the letter would go to its destination without a house number on it. The writer must have sent other letters in the same way, trusting to the mail man knowing where to leave it."

"Some mail man!" commented Terry admiringly.

"But then Ninth Street may be a short one," said Mrs. Landry. "I can't just recollect about that, though I have been on it. At any rate, I think, in such a desperate case as this," and here she smiled slightly, "you would be justified in sending the telegram to the name you have selected, with just Ninth Street, New York, as its destination. Those telegraph messenger boys are clever. One may know just where to take it or he may inquire of some Russian in the Village. The Russians are clannish, like all foreigners, and this person may be well known."

"Oh, I'm sure it's going to succeed now!" declared Arden.

"Of course!" murmured her chums, Sim adding:

"You write the telegram out now, Ard."

Arden wrote and read:

_"'Serg Uzlov. Ninth Street, New York City. Can you give us any information concerning Dimitri Uzlov? Very important. Anxious to get in touch with him. Telegraph my expense.'"_

"That's a lot more than ten words," remarked Sim.

"Who cares?" laughed Terry. "This may mean a lot. But you'll have to sign some name to it, won't you?"

"Could we use yours, Mrs. Landry?" asked Arden.

"Yes, I think so," Terry's mother answered after a moment of thought. "It will do no harm."

"Then we'll do it," decided Arden.

"I can hardly wait!" Sim cried excitedly. "Of course we couldn't go to town tonight?" she looked beseechingly at Mrs. Landry.

"Of course not, my dear young Watson," Terry's mother smiled as she replied. "You sleuths have done quite enough for one day. Besides, think how silly you'll feel if you find out nothing has happened at all."

"I suppose so," Terry reluctantly admitted. "But somehow, Mother, I think there's something in this."

"You may be right," her mother agreed. "Nevertheless, your commanding officer orders you all to bed."

Somewhat petulantly they kissed the jovial lady good-night and went upstairs, but not to sleep till some time later, when, unable to stay awake any longer, they at last succ.u.mbed to the call of Morpheus.

But sleeping though they were, it was a fitful rest. Filled with dreams of gold boxes, strange dark women, and telegrams. Once Arden cried out, "Tania! Tania!" and Sim gave her a sleepy nudge to wake her from her dream.

Arden sighed and rolled over. Morning was so long in coming. At length the smiling sun climbed up over the edge of the ocean and announced the beginning of a new day.

CHAPTER XXI Melissa Has a Pin

As soon as they possibly could after breakfast the next day, the three girls rowed over to the houseboat and fed Tania. They let her romp for a while and reluctantly locked her up again. They feared the townspeople, ever on the watch for something to talk about, would find some choice gossip if they were seen in the village with the "Russian's" dog.

The storm was over, and the sun, almost a stranger, broke through the clouds, blinding in its brightness. The day promised to be hot, so dressed in cool "semi-back" dresses the girls left the houseboat and went home first to report to Mrs. Landry that there was no news.

Then they got the car out and went to the village to send the telegram, which they all hoped would bring good results.

"You'd better shut the door of the phone booth," Terry suggested to Arden as they entered the drug store. "You never can tell who'll be listening, and the whole town would be excited if they heard the message."

"Yes, I think that would be best," Arden agreed.

Trying to appear nonchalant, as though this was an ordinary call, Arden sent off the message. She requested an immediate answer. To make doubly sure, she informed the operator who took the telegram that she must know as soon as possible if it was delivered and left the number of the drug-store phone.

The telegraph company had an arrangement with the drug store so that messages could be telephoned in and payment made to the clerk. When Arden had completed the dictation, at the request of the operator, she got the drug clerk into the booth, and he was informed as to the toll, which Arden paid him.

"It will take a while, even if it is delivered," Arden told her friends.

"So we might as well do the shopping and come back."

"Oh, I do hope we get a reply," Sim said earnestly. "I couldn't sleep last night thinking about Dimitri."

"For a person who couldn't sleep, you gave a marvelous imitation," Arden answered sarcastically. "Three or four times I could have sworn you were dead to the world."

"Me-ouw-me-ouw," Terry squeaked. "Don't be catty! The time will go quicker if we keep busy."

They did all the shopping they had to for Terry's mother and walked once around the block to kill more time before returning to the drug store.

Arden could no longer be diplomatic. She marched up to the dull-looking soda boy and asked in clear tones: "Did a message come for me?"

"Haven't had a call today," replied the youth behind the counter. "Were you expect--"

The phone bell rang sharply. Arden almost ran to answer it, slamming the door shut behind her.

Terry and Sim could see her face, bright with antic.i.p.ation for a few seconds, then with dismay saw her expression change. They couldn't hear what she was saying, but in a short while she was out again and beckoned them to follow her outside.

"That was one of the managers of the telegraph company in New York,"

Arden reported. "He's in the office nearest Ninth Street. He said they couldn't send a boy out to deliver a message without a street address-it would lose too much time. But if we are willing to pay extra for messenger service, he says he'll have a boy sort of scout around and try to locate the party."

"What did you tell him?" asked Terry.

"Told him to go ahead and we'd pay anything in reason. He said it probably would not be much more than a dollar."

"We'll chip in," declared Terry.