"I suppose she would, as I'm a stranger to her. But I hate to be a bother."

"No bother at all," said Terry. "One of us can go with you, and the rest of us can stay here to receive our expected visitor. He may not come after all," she added.

"Oh, I think he will," said Arden.

"Then you two stay here," suggested Terry quickly. "I will go in our boat with this lady. We'll do some crabbing. It will be the best way."

"And if our friend comes," said Sim, "we'll hold him until you get back, Terry."

"Yes, do that."

CHAPTER XXIV The Man Arrives

Emma Tash was a very efficient woman. No sooner had the crabbing plan of approaching the Clayton shack been decided upon than she lifted up a small black bag which she had set beside her chair.

"If we are going crabbing," she said with a smile, "I have my disguise in here."

"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 investigators don't go in much for that sort of thing. Some of our men do, though. But when I knew I had to come down to the seash.o.r.e, naturally I thought of bathing, fishing, or crabbing.

"Now, I'm not very fond of ocean bathing, so I pa.s.sed up that suit. I don't know how to fish, but I do know how to crab, and I used to do it when I was a girl. So I brought my crabbing disguise with me."

"What in the world is a crabbing disguise?" asked Terry, as their visitor laughed. "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 me in 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 be all right. And we had better start," she added. "Time is pa.s.sing, and I want to be back here to help receive our visitor."

"I will be as quick as I can," Emma Tash said. "If I could go somewhere to 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 adopted was the best one possible in the circ.u.mstances.

"Only," sighed Terry who, in a sense, was offering herself as a sacrifice, "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 Terry were soon off in the boat, provided with a net, a peach basket to hold the crabs, and some old pieces of meat, on strings, for bait.

Sim and Arden watched Terry row away in the direction of the Clayton shack.

"And now we'll just have to sit here and wait," sighed Arden as Terry and her pa.s.senger disappeared around a point.

"We could go in swimming," suggested Sim, ever mindful of her ambition to become an expert in aquatic sports.

"Then let's. It will make the time pa.s.s quicker. After all, I don't believe he can get here until late afternoon. There aren't many sh.o.r.e trains 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 was rather too cool for real enjoyment in the water, and they soon came out and sunned themselves on the sand.

Meanwhile Terry, with her usual skill at the oars, was sending the boat along at good speed toward their objective.

"Mustn't row too fast now, though," she told Emma Tash when she was near the Clayton shack. "Crabbers usually just anchor, put the bait over the side, and wait for bites."

"I know," said the detective woman. "I've done it often enough. But crabbers often haul up the anchor and go from place to place looking for better luck. In that way we can gradually approach without any suspicions."

"I think so," Terry agreed.

She rowed on until they were within view of the place where Melissa lived. There was no sign of life about the shack or its outbuildings.

Whether Melissa had returned home after meeting the girls in the drug store, Terry had no way of finding out.

"Perhaps we'd better stop here," suggested Emma Tash. "I can make an observation 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, and as Terry threw the little anchor over, Emma Tash focused the gla.s.s on the Clayton shack.

The boat had drifted the length of the anchor rope with the incoming tide, which is always best for crabbing, and Terry was putting over the first bit of bait when the detective woman lowered the binocular and said:

"Not a sign of life. I guess there's n.o.body home."

"Melissa would hardly have had time to get here since we saw her in the drug 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 of Emma Tash. "I'd like to see the girl alone."

They began to crab in earnest now. For, after all, George Clayton might be lurking about his place and see them. For a time Terry really entered into the enjoyment of their occupation, for the crabs were biting well and she landed a number of big blue-clawed ones, while her companion did likewise.

Now and then they would net a "mammy," her ap.r.o.n bulging with a cl.u.s.ter of yellow eggs ready to be deposited in some clump of the lettuce-like seaweed. These "mammy" crabs were always thrown back to aid in the propagation of future generations.

"I think we had better move a little-a little closer," suggested the detective in a low voice after a half hour of good luck. "I want to take another look."

"Yes," Terry agreed. She pulled up the anchor, but this time the policewoman did the rowing, and she rowed well. Terry envied her skill.