"THE WOODEN DOLLS"
CHAPTER IX
ELAINE ROBERTSON'S STORY
"Our second day on board and not a glimpse of either her or the doctor," said Tom, gloomily. "I begin to doubt their being on board at all."
He and Wallion were standing on the promenade deck, leaning over the rails, and by chance no one else was there. For two days the gigantic propeller had been plowing its way through the surf. A fresh breeze was blowing and the sky stretched like a blue canopy from horizon to horizon across the ever rising and falling waves. The rhythmical thud of the machinery within the capacious interior of the boat reached them where they stood.
Tom gazed at the endless amplitude of the ocean, and, obsessed by doubts when Wallion did not reply, at once continued. "After all what are we really here for? Who knows whether the solving of the mystery connected with those wooden dolls does, indeed, await us? We may have left it behind, and Elaine may have disappeared for ever."
Wallion made a gesture as if lie had just awakened from sleep, and looked at his friend.
"Compose yourself," he said. "You don't suppose I should leave anything to chance? Certainly we did not see them come on board, but they are here. I have seen the list of passengers, and have had a chat with the purser; they have engaged two of the best upper deck cabins. Madame Lorraine and the girl are in number five and the doctor in number seven. As they keep so much to themselves, and even have their meals in the cabin, I fancy they are aware of our presence. I daresay they wonder—perhaps, not without reason, what our intentions are."
"Yes, what must she think?" said Tom gravely. "What shall I say to her?"
"Say to her? Why tell her the truth, that I am going to Seattle on business for Christian Dreyel, and that you have come to keep me company. The promenade deck is free to all, and before this adventure has come to an end I shall have to thank my stars and yours that we were on the spot," said Wallion with much energy.