“Yes. I think we should all go, I mean we three, don’t you, Mrs. Landry?”
“Well, if there’s danger—but then I hardly believe there will be if you have the chief with you. Yes, go, by all means.”
“This is going to be a real expedition!” declared Terry as she drove her chums over to the village, parked their car near the chief’s garage, and walked to where they found the officer still tinkering with his old auto.
“Good-morning, girls,” he greeted them, wiping a smudge of oil off his face. “You see I’m busy as usual, time and tide in a long race, you know,” and the gold tooth grinned at them cheerfully.
“Mr. Reilly, can you come with us at once?” asked Arden in businesslike tones. “There may be an arrest to make.”
“An arrest?” The chief showed new interest.
“Yes. Over at the Clayton shack. It’s quite a story.”
The chief, when he heard it, could not but admit it was. There was a new air about him now. He seemed much more in earnest than at any time since Dimitri Uzlov had been missing at Marshlands.
“I’ll be with you in a few minutes, girls,” the chief said. “Just as soon as I can wash up and pin my badge on. Then we’ll get in my motorboat and ride over to see this Mr. Clayton.”
“How would it be,” suggested Terry, “if you took us back to our dock in your boat and then we picked up our rowboat? You could tow us in that to the Clayton shack.”