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At half-past ten that morning, a motor-car turned out from the garage at Clenarvon Court, and made its way down the avenue. In it was a single passenger the dark-faced Parisian valet of the Marquis de Sogrange. As the car left the avenue and struck into the main road, it was hailed by Peter Ruff and John Dory, who were walking together along the lane.
Here he undressed and a minute later was swimming straight out to sea. The level rays of the sun were doing to the water just what the headlights of the motors had done to the road; they were enlarging every ripple and edging the deep purple-blue with yellow light. Except for a fishing dory chunking out to its day's work, Ben had the sea and land to himself.
"They have not seen Jimmy at all as yet," said John. "But suppose the bidarka is gone he very probably took that with him." "Let's go see," suggested Jesse, and accordingly they hurried to the side of the lagoon. Sure enough, only the dory remained. The bidarka had disappeared from its resting-place.
Peter Ruff and John Dory stepped into the tonneau of the car. The man civilly lifted the hatbox from the seat, and made room for his enforced companions. Nevertheless, it was easy to see that he was not pleased. "There's plenty of room here for three," Peter Ruff said, cheerfully, as they sat on either side of him. "Drive slowly, please, chauffeur. Now, Mr.
Crompton had gin him his confidence and he should keep it. I'm shoo that Miss Dory sent letters through Mas'r Hardy to de Colonel, an' he writ to her. Not very offen, though.
At every turn and in every nook you stumbled on some miracle of which you had never dreamed. Or perhaps the charm was simply that the whole garden was an expression of Uncle Dick's personality. In one corner a little green dory, filled with earth, overflowed in a wave of gay annuals.
Thus they rowed on for more than half an hour before any of the boys suspected anything wrong. Rob made signs to them to stop rowing. All the boys looked about them in the fog. They were still in the roll of the open sea, and the dory pitched wildly on the long swell, but, listen intently as they might, they could hear no sound from any quarter.
If none were gone but himself, he reasoned, the schooner would have come in search of him. So, from listening for the horn of a dory, he tried to catch the hoarse voice of a patent fog-horn that would be grinding on the forecastle head. By this time the wind was a gale, and he knew it was driving him astern, despite his rowing.
Thus far his plan had succeeded, even beyond his expectations. But his work was only begun. Before it should be finished, four men on shore must be overcome. Aquiver with excitement, he sprang into the dory and quickly rowed to the beach, some distance from the camp. Then he leaped out with the oars and carried them well up on the shingle.
Adelaide was thinking of her trunks, was trying to recall the things she felt she must have neglected in the rush; Dory was worrying over her paleness and the heavy circles under her eyes, was fretting about the train Del's tardiness had not been in the calculations. Even the preacher, infected by the atmosphere of haste, ran over the sentences, hardly waiting for the responses.
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