“It served him quite right,” Mr. Baker chuckled. “There’s another train late this afternoon. He can catch that.”
“I hope he doesn’t lose Figi,” Doris said with a smile, “but at least he’ll have the remainder of the day to look for it.”
Before Mrs. Mallow or the girls could take seats, the stranger, who had boarded the train at the junction, came down the aisle and spoke to Mr. Baker. The latter politely acknowledged the greeting and turned to introduce him as Frank McDermott, an attorney from Cloudy Cove.
The man was very well dressed and apparently conscious of this fact. He carried a cane and wore a white gardenia in the lapel of his coat.
“Well! Well!” he observed in a loud voice, as he was presented to the girls, “so you young ladies let the snakes out of the box! That’s one way to get rid of a troublesome admirer. Good joke! Ha, ha!”
As his loud laughter rang through the car, a number of the passengers turned to stare at him.
Doris and Kitty flushed and looked embarrassed. Mr. Baker frowned, obviously displeased at the lawyer’s noisy manner.
“There’s a seat toward the front of the car,” he suggested, and the two moved on together.
“Thank goodness Mr. Baker steered him away,” Doris murmured.
Of necessity the party had boarded a local for Cloudy Cove. The train stopped at every station, but, as it was only a short journey from the junction to their destination, the girls did not have time to become weary. In less than an hour the conductor called “Cloudy Cove,” and they began to gather their belongings together with eager haste.
Mr. Baker came over to their seat as the train switched in on a side track.
“Almost there now,” he said with a smile, and then in an undertone, “I wouldn’t have introduced that man, but I couldn’t very well get out of it.”
“You say he is a lawyer from Cloudy Cove?” Mrs. Mallow inquired.
“Yes, but I’m sorry to say he doesn’t enjoy a good reputation. He’s very shrewd and crafty. Mind you, he was never caught in a dishonest deal, but he’s been under suspicion more than once. Better not have business dealings with him”
“No danger of that,” Doris laughed.
At that moment she little dreamed of the vital part which the lawyer was to play in her affairs and those of the late John Trent.
Although Doris did not expect to see McDermott again, she studied his face rather curiously. It was a hard face, she decided. His jovial manner was but a mask for his inner self. Inwardly he was no, doubt cruel and ruthless.
The train came to a full stop, and the party alighted. McDermott walked directly away, merely tipping his hat to Mrs. Mallow and the girls, but Mr. Baker remained to offer his services.
“Are you expecting someone to meet you?” he inquired.
Mrs. Mallow explained that they had engaged rooms at The Mayfair and, would take a taxi. Mr. Baker helped them with their luggage and assisted them into the cab.
“I hope you have an enjoyable stay in our city,” he said pleasantly. “If for any reason you should tire of the hotel, come out to my summer camp. Anyone can tell you where it is. We have a very choice list of guests.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t know about your place before we engaged our rooms,” Mrs. Mallow said regretfully. “It would have been so much nicer there near the water.”
“Excuse me,” Mr. Baker interrupted hastily. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten my umbrella. Left it on the train.”
He bolted away, coat-tail flying in the breeze. Mrs. Mallow and the girls watched anxiously as he boarded the train, which fortunately had not yet left the station. A moment later they saw him reappear, clutching the umbrella, and then gave the order to drive on to the hotel.
“That man would lose his head if it weren’t attached,” Doris laughed. “You can’t help liking him, though. He’s so genuine.”
In a few minutes the cab arrived at The Mayfair, a small but pleasant summer hotel. Mrs. Mallow went to the desk.
“I am Mrs. Mallow,” she said to the clerk on duty. “I have a reservation—”
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Mallow,” the young man replied, consulting a list tacked up on the side of a partition. “On the second floor. I am not sure that the rooms are ready, though.”
“Do you mean,” Mrs. Mallow asked, “that someone else is occupying them?”
The clerk smiled. “They have been, but the guests are leaving this morning.”
At that moment wdVd came that the rooms were ready, and the clerk handed Mrs. Mallow a pen, which he had dipped into a bottle of ink on the desk.
“Will you please register, Mrs. Mallow? I believe there’s a telegram for you,” the clerk said after she had signed her name. “Yes, here it is.”
He took a yellow envelope from one of the mail boxes and handed it to her. Mrs. Mallow stood staring down at it but made no move to open it. Doris and Kitty hurried over toward her, alarmed by the frightened expression on her face.
“What is it?” they asked.
“A telegram,” she murmured. “I’m afraid it’s about Marshmallow and Dave! They shouldn’t have started off in that old car! Oh, I’m afraid something dreadful has happened!”
CHAPTER VIII
The Miser of Cloudy Cove
Nervously Mrs. Mallow ripped open the envelope and unfolded the slip of yellow paper. As she scanned the message, the tense lines of her face gradually relaxed.
“Has anything happened?” Kitty questioned anxiously.
Mrs. Mallow handed over the telegram and the girls eagerly noted the contents. It read:
“Trouble with car. Will reach Cloudy Cove Friday. Marshall.”
“The old bus probably fell to pieces on the road,” Doris laughed. “It’s a relief to know they weren’t in an accident”
“I’m glad Marshall thought of telegraphing,” Mrs. Mallow commented. “I should have worried myself sick, if he hadn’t arrived at the appointed time. I imagine it will be best to arrange ahead for the boys’ room. I’ll speak to the manager about it now.”
She turned toward a ruddy-faced man of middle age whom the clerk had pointed out as Edgar Morehouse, the owner of The Mayfair. In response to her request that he reserve a room for Dave and Marshmallow, he shook his head regretfully.
“We’re filled up just now and it’s doubtful that we’ll have anything before the first of next week. You see, this is the height of our season here at Cloudy Cove. Nearly all of our guests engage rooms weeks in advance. At the present moment we have a long waiting list.”
“But surely you can find something by Friday!” Mrs. Mallow protested.
“I am afraid not,” the owner returned. “I shall be glad to place your name on the list and if there is a vacancy—”
“Can you recommend another hotel?”
“There are several here, but I fear you will be unable to secure accomm’odations on such short notice. Everything is crowded.”
Mrs. Mallow came back to where the girls were waiting and told them how matters stood.
“It was foolish of me not to reserve their rooms when I did ours,” she said in disappointment. “Of course, I couldn’t be sure until the last minute that they would come with us.”