Terry took the lead, followed by Arden and Sim, with Tania picking her way along daintily after them.
They made good time, for the wind was at their backs and served to push them forward. Just ahead, its sides slapped by the lapping waves, they could see the old houseboat looming up darkly in the rain.
Silently they went around to the land side, where the wooden steps led to the narrow promenade that ran completely around the boat.
There on the rain-swept deck they hesitated. Not a sound, except the noise of the storm, reached them. They were a little afraid, yet they knew they must go in.
Arden went forward, found the door unlocked, and pushed it open. Her companions followed her, and cautiously they entered the picturesque main room. It was just as they had last seen it. The mysterious painting covered on the easel, the jars of paint brushes on the table, and the odds and ends Dimitri had left lying about, were all, apparently, untouched. But the artist himself was not there.
Terry pushed aside the faded curtains that kept the little kitchen separate from the rest of the boat.
“He’s not here,” she said simply.
“From the looks of this place he hasn’t been here for quite a while,” Sim amended. “See the grease on that pan.”
Arden, however, made a more important discovery. She pointed to a little wall cupboard. The door hung crazily on its hinges, disclosing the empty space within.
“Look,” she exclaimed. “That door has been broken open. I’ll bet that’s where Dimitri kept the snuffbox!” The words came so suddenly, the girls gasped involuntarily.