It was now late afternoon, and the girls, nervous with the tension, sat on the porch, waiting. Not for anything would they now go far away from the house. The “man from New York” might arrive any minute.
“Oh, dear,” Sim wailed. “Isn’t this suspense awful? If that man doesn’t come soon, I’ll——”
“It’s almost five o’clock,” Arden said, looking at her watch. “He ought to get here soon.”
“You youngsters will be nervous wrecks,” Mrs. Landry remarked as Terry paced restlessly up and down the front porch. “Can’t you find something to do?”
“I can’t sit still long enough to do anything,” Terry replied.
“Listen!” Arden cautioned. “Isn’t that a car?”
Instantly there was quiet. They all strained their ears to hear the sound of bumping wheels.
“Yes!” Terry exclaimed. “Come on!”
Flinging open the screen door of the porch she raced around to the back, where the yellow sand road stretched. Sim and Arden followed close behind her.
They stood like pointers, immobile, while the car approached. It reached the gate and stopped. The side door was opened, and a polished shoe was thrust out. Then the whole man appeared, and the girls gasped audibly. It was the dark young man who had rowed himself over to the houseboat when they last heard from Dimitri!