“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 circumstances.
“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 passenger 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 pass quicker. After all, I don’t believe he can get here until late afternoon. There aren’t many shore 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.