Judy had brought only twenty-five dollars with her, but Miss Ward advanced the remainder, knowing she would be repaid. Mr. Krumm then handed over the key. Judy asked him if he would mind if the cottage were put to use before the arrival of her aunt.
“The rent’s paid, and the place is yours, for better or for worse,” the realtor replied. “All I ask is that you don’t come running to me with complaints, or a demand for a return of your money. The deal’s final.”
“That’s understood,” Judy agreed.
Having pocketed the fifty dollars, Mr. Krumm seemed eager to be away.
“You may want to look the place over more carefully,” he said quickly. “I have a pressing engagement in town. Suppose I have your friends pick you up in the camp station wagon. Okay?”
“Yes, that will be satisfactory,” Miss Ward replied.
“Oh, by the way,” Mr. Krumm said, apparently as an after-thought. “Better keep that door to the cellar locked.”
“Door?” Judy repeated with misgiving. “I didn’t notice a door. Is there a special reason—”
Mr. Krumm did not wait for her to complete the question. The girls were certain he heard and wished to avoid answering. At any rate, without offering further information, he tipped his hat and hastened down the weed-grown path to his car.