"Because I _did_!" Leslie quietly returned.

CHAPTER VI

LESLIE MAKES SOME DEDUCTIONS

"Well, of all things!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the astonished Phyllis. "And you never said a word! What was it?"

"I didn't say anything," explained Leslie, "because there was hardly a chance. It was just before we came out. And--"

"But what was it? Never mind how it happened!" cried Phyllis impatiently.

"Well, this is part of it. In that southwest bedroom (the one facing our house), I saw a tiny string of beads lying under the bureau, just by the front leg of it. The string was just a thread about three inches long, with some little green beads on it. A few of the beads had come off it and rolled farther away. I picked one of them up, and here it is." She held out a little bead to Phyllis.

"But what on earth is there to _this_?" exclaimed Phyllis, staring at it disappointedly. "I don't see what an insignificant little object like this proves. It was probably left by the Danforths, anyway."

"No, I don't think it was," returned Leslie, quietly, "because the Danforths seem to have cleaned the place very thoroughly. The rest of the floor was spick and span as could be. I think the string of beads was part of a fringe, such as they wear so much nowadays to trim nice dresses. It probably caught in the leg of that bureau and was pulled off without its owner realizing it. Now did any of the Danforths, as far as you know, have any bead-trimmed dresses that they wore down here?"

Phyllis shook her head. "I begin to see what you're driving at, Leslie.

No, there's only Mrs. Danforth to wear dresses--the rest of the family consists of her husband and the boys. I'm perfectly certain I never saw her in a beaded dress. And even if she had one, I'm sure she wouldn't think of wearing it down here, not even to travel home in. People don't bring elaborate clothes to this place, and she's never been known to. I believe you're right. If the beads had been there when the place was cleaned, they would have disappeared. They must have come there since.

The mysterious 'she' of the footprint must have left them! But what else was there?"

"Then I noticed another thing that was curious and very puzzling. I confess, I can't make much out of it, and yet it may mean a great deal.

It was out by the fireplace in the living-room. Did you happen to notice that one of the bricks in the floor of it looked as if an attempt had been made to pry it loose, or something? The cement all along one side had been loosened and then packed down into place again. And 'way in the corner, I picked up _this_!" She held up the blade of a penknife, broken off halfway.

"No, I hadn't noticed it at all!" exclaimed Phyllis, ruefully. "The truth is, Leslie, I went into that place expecting to see it all torn up or upheaved or something of the kind--something very definite, anyway. And when I didn't find anything of the sort, I was awfully disappointed and hardly stopped to notice any of these small things. But I believe what you've found may be very important, and I think you're awfully clever to have noticed them, too. Why, it actually sounds like a regular detective story! And now that you've found these things, what do you make out of them? Have you any ideas?"

Leslie wrinkled her brows for an interval in silent thought. At last she said, "Yes, I have a good many ideas, but I haven't had time to get them into any order yet. They're all sort of--chaotic!"

"Oh, never mind!" cried the ever-impatient Phyllis. "Tell me them, anyway. I don't care how chaotic they are!"

"Well, to begin with,--has this occurred to you?--whoever comes here selects only a stormy, rainy night for a visit. Now _why_, unless they think it the best kind of time to escape observation. They just calculate on few people going out or even _looking_ out of their houses on that kind of a night. Isn't that so?"

"It certainly seems to be," agreed Phyllis, "but what do you prove by that?"

"I don't _prove_ anything, but I've drawn a conclusion from it that I'll tell you later. Then, there's the matter of this little bead. I know you rather scorned it when I first showed it to you, but do you realize one thing? We may be able to identify the owner by means of it."

Phyllis stared at her incredulously, but Leslie continued: "Yes, I really think so, and I'll tell you why. This isn't an ordinary bead. In the first place, it's a rather peculiar shade of green--one you don't ordinarily see. Then, though it's so small, it's cut in a different way, too, sort of melon-shaped, only with about six sides. Do you see?"

On closer examination, Phyllis did see. And she had to acknowledge that Leslie was right.

"Then there's the broken penknife and the brick with one side pried out,"

went on Leslie. "It's pretty plain that the person was trying to pry up that brick with the penknife and found it hard work because the mortar or cement is solid. Then the blade of the knife broke and the attempt was probably given up. Now why did they want to pry up that brick?"

"I know!--I know!" cried Phyllis, triumphantly. "They wanted to bury 'The Dragon's Secret' under it!"

"Maybe they did and maybe they didn't," replied Leslie, more cautiously.

"They certainly tried to pry up the brick, but perhaps it was to _look_ for something under it, rather than to hide anything. However, I rather think it was to hide it. And because they didn't succeed, they went out and buried it in the sand, instead. How about _that_?"

Phyllis sprang up and hugged her impetuously. "You have a brain like a regulation sleuth-hound's!" she laughed. "What else?"

"Well, this is what I can't understand. Suppose this person (we're sure now it must be a woman) came down here that first stormy night with 'The Dragon's Secret,' and tried to hide it somewhere, and finally buried it in the sand outside. The question is, what did she come for the _second_ time?"

"To get it again?" suggested Phyllis.

"I'm almost absolutely certain not, because, if so, all she would have had to do was to go outside and dig. (Of course, she wouldn't have found it because we had it!) But she never went outside at all. I know that positively. I pa.s.sed right by the place where Rags dug the hole, on my way up from your bungalow, and it was quite untouched, just as we left it after we filled it up again that day. And when we came back again, I looked a second time, and still it was the same. And I watched half the night and would certainly have seen if any one had gone there. No, I'm sure it wasn't for that. But what was it for?"

"Give it up," advised Phyllis, "at least for the present. Anything else?"

"No, except the conclusion I drew about the person's coming on a stormy night. Do you realize this?--there's quite a big chance that they--or rather, _she_!--will come again on the _next_ stormy night--perhaps!"

"Well, if that's the case," exclaimed Phyllis, "I've drawn a little conclusion of my own. The next stormy night I'm going to spend at your bungalow--and we're going to keep awake all night!"

CHAPTER VII

A NEW DEVELOPMENT

But the weather remained quite clear for several nights after this. And meantime other things happened that gave a new twist to the girls'

conjectures.

Two mornings after the events of the last chapter, Phyllis appeared at Rest Haven with a mysterious wrapped parcel in her hand. Answering Leslie's curious glance, she whispered:

"I want you to take this thing and keep it here and hide it. It's 'The Dragon's Secret.' I don't feel safe a minute with it around our place since Ted's performance the other day. You know, he boasted he'd find out our secret, and he will certainly make every effort to, or I don't know him. Whether he'll succeed or not depends upon how clever _we_ are in spoiling his plans. If he found this, though, we might as well not try to keep the rest from him. I discovered him snooping around my room rather suspiciously yesterday. This was locked up in my trunk, and he _said_ he was only hunting for fudge! But anyhow, you'd better keep it now, if you can think of some safe place to hide it."

"I'm sure I don't know where to put it!" sighed Leslie, rather worried by the responsibility. "Aunt Marcia and I shared one big trunk because it didn't seem worth while to bring two, when one needs so few things here.

So of course I couldn't put it in there, and the lock of my suitcase is broken. There isn't a bureau-drawer with a key in the whole bungalow--so what am I going to do?"

For a time, Phyllis was equally puzzled. Then suddenly she had a bright idea. "I'll tell you! That top shelf in your pantry where the refrigerator is! You said you'd put quite a few kitchen things that you didn't use there, and it's dark and unhandy and neither your aunt nor any one else would think of disturbing it. Wouldn't that be the best place, really?"

"I guess you're right," admitted Leslie, considerably relieved. "Wait till Aunt Marcia has gone to sit on the front veranda, and we can put it there."

The Dragon's Secret had probably known some strange resting-places in its time, but doubtless none stranger than the one in which it now found itself--a dark, rather dusty top shelf in a pantry, hobn.o.bbing with a few worn-out pots and pans and discarded kitchen-ware! But the girls tucked it far into a corner, and, wrapped in its burlap bag, it was as successfully concealed as it would have been in a strong-box.

"And now, there's something I've been wanting to ask you," said Leslie, as the two girls strolled down to the beach. "Do you happen to know anything about the people who hired Curlew's Nest the latter part of this summer?"

"Oh, yes!" answered Phyllis, "though I didn't happen to see them myself.

Mrs. Danforth told me that in July the Remsons had it, as they always do.

But in August and September she rented it to an elderly gentleman,--I can't think of his name, just this minute,--who stayed there all by himself, with only his man or valet to do all the work. He wasn't very well,--was recovering from some kind of a fever, I think,--and wanted to be alone in some quiet place. You know, Mrs. Danforth herself spent all summer in your bungalow, and she said she saw very little of the man in Curlew's Nest, though they were such near neighbors. He sat on his porch or in the house a great deal, or took long walks by himself on the beach.

He used to pa.s.s the time of day with her, and make some other formal remarks, but that was about all. She was really rather curious about him, he seemed so anxious not to mix with other people or be talked to. But he left about the middle of September, and she closed up that bungalow for the winter. That's about all I know."

"It's too bad you can't think of his name!" exclaimed Leslie.