"Why?" demanded Phyllis, suddenly curious. "You surely don't think that has anything to do with _this_ affair, do you?"

But Leslie countered that question by asking another: "Has it ever occurred to you as strange, Phyllis, that whoever got into that bungalow lately, knew the little secret about the side door and worked it so cleverly?"

Phyllis's eyes grew wide and she seized Leslie's arm in so muscular a grip that Leslie winced. "No, it didn't, you little pocket-edition _Sherlock Holmes_! But I see what you're driving at. To know about that side door, one must have been pretty well acquainted with that bungalow--_lived_ in it for a while! Aha! No wonder you're curious about the last occupant. We'll have to count that old gentleman in on this!"

"Yes, but here's the mystery," reminded Leslie. "You said he lived here alone except for his man-servant. Remember, please, that the footprint we saw--was a _woman's_!"

Phyllis tore at her hair in mock despair. "Worse and more of it!" she groaned. "But the deeper it gets, the more determined I grow to get to the bottom of it!"

They strolled on a while in silence. Suddenly Phyllis asked, "Where's Rags this morning?"

"He doesn't seem to feel very well to-day. Something seems to have disagreed with him--perhaps too many hermit-crabs! Anyway, he's lying around on the veranda and seems to want to stay near Aunt Marcia and sleep. She said she'd keep him there."

"Best news I've heard in an age!" exclaimed Phyllis, delightedly. "That dog is a most faithful article, Leslie, but he's a decided nuisance sometimes! And now, I have a gorgeous idea that I've been wanting to try for two days. Father and Ted have gone off for the day up the inlet, and Rags is out of commission. Here's our chance. Do you realize that there's one bedroom in Curlew's Nest we didn't have a chance to explore the other day? Let's go and do it right now. I'll run down to our house for the electric torch and meet you at the side door. There's not a soul around to interfere with us!"

"Oh, no, Phyllis! I really don't think we ought--" objected Leslie, recalling all too vividly the unpleasantness of their former experience.

But Phyllis was off and far away while she was still expostulating, and in the end, Leslie found herself awaiting her companion in the vicinity of the side door of Curlew's Nest.

They entered the dark bungalow with beating hearts, more aware this time than ever that mystery lurked in the depth of it. Straight to the unexplored bedroom they proceeded, for, as Leslie reminded them, they had no time to waste; Rags might have an untimely recovery and come seeking them as before! Ted also might be prompted by his evil genius to descend on them; or even Aunt Marcia might be minded to hunt them up.

The bedroom in question, as Phyllis now recalled, was the southwest one, and the one Mrs. Danforth said that the last tenant had chosen for his own. "Therefore it ought to be more than ordinarily interesting," went on Phyllis. "I remember now that Mrs. Danforth said he had asked permission to leave there, as a little contribution to the bungalow, a few books that he had finished with and did not wish to carry away. She left them right where they were on a shelf in his room, instead of putting them in the bookcase in the living-room. I'm sort of remembering these things she told me, piecemeal, because Mrs. Danforth is a great talker and is always giving you a lot of details about things you're not particularly interested in, and you try to listen politely, but often find it an awful bore. Then you try to forget it all as soon as possible!"

They found the bedroom in question somewhat more s.p.a.cious and better furnished than the others. But though they examined every nook and cranny with care, they discovered nothing thrilling, or even enlightening, within its walls till they came to the shelf of books. These, with the exception of two books of recent fiction, were all of travel and politics in foreign countries.

"My, but he must have been interested in India and China and Tibet and those countries!" exclaimed Leslie, reading the t.i.tles. "I wonder why?"

She took one of them down and turned the pages idly. As she did so, something fluttered out and fell to the floor. "Oh!" she cried, picking it up and examining it. "Phyllis, this may prove very valuable! Do you see what it is?" It was an envelop of thin, foreign-looking paper--an empty envelop, forgotten and useless, unless perhaps it had been employed as a bookmark. But on it was a name--the name no doubt of the recipient of the letter it had once contained, and also a foreign address.

"Do you see what it says?" went on Leslie, excitedly. "'_Honorable Arthur Ramsay_, _Hotel des Wagons-Lits_, _Peking_'. Why, Phyllis, that's his name (which you couldn't remember!) and he was evidently at some time in Peking!"

But Phyllis was puckering her brows in an effort of memory. "There's some mistake here, I guess," she remarked at length, "for now I recall that Mrs. Danforth said his name was Mr. Horatio Gaines!"

Leslie dropped the envelop back in the book, the picture of disappointment.

"It doesn't seem likely he'd have someone else's envelops in his books,"

she remarked. "And I think Honorable Arthur Ramsay of Peking sounds far more thrilling than plain 'Horatio Gaines'! Let's look through the rest of the books and see if we can discover anything else."

They examined them all, but found nothing more of interest and Leslie suggested uneasily that they had better go.

"But there's one thing I must see first,--" decided Phyllis; "the beads and broken penknife you found. I've been wild to look at them for myself.

Come along! We'll have time for that."

They made their way cautiously into the next bedroom, bent down, and turned the torch toward the floor under the bureau where Leslie had made the discovery. Then both girls simultaneously gasped. There was not a sign of the beads anywhere to be seen!

"Phyllis!" breathed Leslie, in frightened wonder. "It's gone--the whole string! What can be the meaning of it?"

"Come!" cried Phyllis, dragging Leslie after her. "Let's go and see if the broken penknife blade is there yet. If that's gone, too, something new has happened here!"

They hurried to the living-room and bent over the fireplace. The half-loosened brick was there as Leslie had described it, but of the broken penknife blade in the corner, there was not a vestige to be seen!

CHAPTER VIII

THE CLUE OF THE GREEN BEAD

With shaking knees and blank dismay on their faces, they crept out of Curlew's Nest and fastened the door. Then they hurried down to the water's edge and sat on a rise of sand to talk it over.

"What can it all mean, Phyllis?" quavered Leslie.

"It means that some one has been in there again since day before yesterday," declared her companion, "though it's been bright moonlight for the past two nights, and how they got in without being seen, I can't quite understand! You said you kept some sort of watch, didn't you?"

"I certainly did. I haven't gone to bed till late, and every once in a while during the night, I've waked up and looked over there. It doesn't seem possible they would dare to come with the moonlight bright as day, all night long. Of course, that side door is on the opposite side from us, and the only way I could tell would be by seeing a light through the cracks of the shutter. Perhaps if they hadn't had a very bright light, I wouldn't know."

"But what did they come for?" questioned Phyllis.

"Why, that's simple. They came back to get the beads and the knife-blade.

Probably it was the 'mysterious she,' and she came to get those things because she realized they'd been left there and might be discovered by some one else. What else could it be?"

"Of course you must be right," agreed Phyllis. "But it's the queerest thing I ever heard of! Anyway, there's _one_ thing the lady doesn't know--that we have still one of the beads! I wonder how she'd feel if she _did_ realize it?"

"Do you ever wonder what that mysterious lady is like?" asked Leslie. "I often try to picture her--from the very, very little we know about her. I think she is tall and dark and slender, and very, very stylishly dressed.

She has rather sad brown eyes and is quite foreign-looking and would be very interesting to know."

"Well, I don't imagine her that way at all," replied Phyllis. "To me it seems as if she must be large and imposing, with light hair and blue eyes and very quick, vivacious manners. I agree that she is no doubt dressed in a very up-to-date style, and is probably about thirty-five or forty years old. I don't know whether I'd like to know her or not, but I _would_ like to know what she's after in that bungalow!"

So they continued to conjecture and imagine till Phyllis finally exclaimed: "Why, there are Father and Ted back already! Fishing must have been poor this morning. Thank goodness we got out of that place when we did! But that reminds me, I ought to go to the village and order some supplies. The grocer doesn't come here again for two days. Don't you want to walk down with me? It's a gorgeous morning for a 'hike'!"

"I believe I will," agreed Leslie, "that is, if Aunt Marcia can get along without me. I haven't had a good walk in so long that I fairly ache for one. I'll go and see if Aunt Marcia would like me to get her anything, and I'll meet you in five minutes."

It was indeed a glorious morning for a walk. The crisp October air was as clear as crystal and the salt meadows back of the dunes were still gay with goldenrod and the deeper autumn colorings. The creek that wound through them was a ribbon of intense blue, and a thousand marsh-birds twittered and darted and swooped over its surface. But the two girls were, for once, almost blind to the beauty of it all, so absorbed were they in the never-failing topic of their mystery. And the village was reached almost before they realized they were in its vicinity.

Phyllis did her shopping first, in the general grocery store. Then Leslie suggested that they visit the little fancy-goods store and look up some wool for Miss Marcia's knitting. It was a very tiny little store, kept by a tiny, rather sleepy old lady, who took a long time to find the articles her customers required. It seemed as if she would never, never locate the box with the right shade of wool in it!

While they were waiting, not altogether patiently, a handsome automobile drew up in front of the store. Its only occupant was a young girl scarcely older than Leslie and Phyllis, and by the ease with which she handled the car, it was plain to be seen that she was an accomplished driver. In another moment she had entered the store and was standing beside the two girls, waiting to be served.

She was short and slender in build, with a pink-and-white complexion, of marvelous clearness, and fluffy, red-brown hair. Under the heavy coat which she had unb.u.t.toned on entering the store could be seen a stylish suit of English tweeds, very tailor-made and up-to-date, and a smart tam crowned her red-brown hair.

After the pleasant manner of the villagers and accustomed summer people, Phyllis bade her "Good morning!" But, to the astonishment of both girls, instead of replying in an equally pleasant manner, she stared at them both up and down for a moment, then turned away with only an ungracious nod. The indignant pair left her severely alone after that, except for a furtive glance or two when she was looking the other way. But when they had at last ascertained that old Mrs. Selby had, after all, _no_ wool of the shade required, Leslie hurried Phyllis out with what seemed almost unnecessary haste.

"The little wretch!" sputtered Phyllis, once safely outside. "Did you _ever_ see worse manners? But she's--"

"Never mind about her manners!" whispered Leslie, excitedly. "Did you notice anything else?"

"Noticed that she was very smart looking and quite pretty--that is, I thought so at first. But after she acted that way, she seemed positively _hateful_!"

"No, no! I don't mean that. Did you notice anything about her dress--her clothes?"