He went through the curtains to the broken cupboard, and as they all stood grouped behind him they saw him, after a moment of hesitation, put his hand in and take out an object. Then they heard his delighted cry:
“Here it is! My box! And not harmed in the least. Wait!”
Quickly he pressed the spring, took out the key, and wound up the mechanism. Suddenly the jeweled bird began to sing. A fairy hymn of victory.
“But how did it get here?” asked Arden.
“The mystery is solved—but how?” questioned Terry.
“This has got my goat,” admitted the chief. “There’s no fool like a spring chicken,” he added, showing his gold tooth in a wide grin.
“I think this may explain matters,” remarked Dimitri as he again put his hand into the shattered cupboard and brought out several sheets of paper. He glanced over them and said: “It is a confession from this George Clayton—he who caught me and held me prisoner. It perhaps tells everything, my friends.”
It did. George Clayton, crabber, lobsterman, and fisher, proved to be more of a scholar than anyone had ever suspected. He wrote a good hand, though some of the words were rather shaky.
“‘First of all,’” the written sheets revealed, “‘I want to let the girls, who were kind to my Melissa, know that she is in good hands. Melissa had nothing to do with me catching Mr. Uzlov. After I got him she wanted me to let him go, but I wouldn’t. Melissa is a good girl. I’m going to let her aunt have her and bring her up right. A woman named Emma Tash came to my place the other day, though I told her to get out, but she didn’t.’”
“Emma Tash just wouldn’t do that a second time,” said Terry, recalling the crabbing party.