The Castle on Deadman's Island by Curtis Parkinson Page B

she moved down the hall. They ducked back out of sight. When a floorboard creaked under them, the swishing sound below paused momentarily, then resumed.
    â€œThe servants’ stairs,” Graham mouthed, and Neil nodded. With Mrs. Ruff busy mopping the hall, the kitchen would be empty. They peered cautiously over the banister. She was now mopping the front hall, her back to them. They scooted past the top of the main staircase, where they were in full view from below, and sped along the hall to the back stairs.
    At the bottom, Neil eased open the door to the kitchen.
Empty!
He nodded to Graham, and they made a quick dash across the kitchen and out the door. There was still Leonard to watch out for. But the steady
clip, clip
of hedge shears told them where he was. Under the cover of bushes, they got by him.
    Once they reached the cove at the back of the island, where Crescent was to pick them up, they breathed easier. “Rather hard on the nerves, this detective business,” Graham said. “And we’re still no further ahead.”
    â€œBut you did spot your aunt’s favorite hat,” Neil reminded him,
“and
her suitcase.”
    Graham stared out at the placid blue water of the cove, frowning. “Funny though, we never found the cellar. I keep thinking we’ve missed something.”
    Neil shrugged. “I don’t see how. Maybe there isn’t a cellar. Maybe it was too rocky to put one in.” He eyed the sky. “The sun’s getting up there. Must be ten or so. Where’s Crescent, I wonder?”
    â€œI hope she remembers to bring food,” Graham said. “I’m starved.”
    There was nothing to do but wait, keeping an eye out for Leonard. Neil watched the point, around which Crescent would come, willing the bow of
Discovery
to appear. It seemed like hours went by. Finally a boat came around the point, but it wasn’t Crescent’s.
    They heard the
putt, putt, putt
of an engine, then a long narrow double-ended launch, like the ones used by fishing guides, appeared.
    In the front, in comfortable wicker chairs one behind the other, sat an older couple. In the center,beside the small inboard engine, a guide steered; behind him sat a teenage boy, and in the stern was a curly-haired girl.
    Neil stared.
Crescent!

SIXTEEN
_
    Crescent waved. The guide shut off the engine, and the launch drifted to a halt in the middle of the cove. The small dinghy it was towing sat rocking in the swell. As Neil and Graham watched, Crescent hauled in the dinghy, climbed into it, and fitted the oars in their slots.
    The boy said something to her and she nodded, holding on to the side of the launch while he stepped awkwardly in beside her, rocking the little dinghy so violently that he almost lost his balance. When it settled down, Crescent rowed to shore.
    Meantime the older couple in the bow picked up their fishing rods, the guide baited their hooks with minnows from a bucket, and they dropped their lines into the water.
    Neil and Graham waited at the water’s edge. “Good to see you, Crescent,” Neil said, when the dinghy reached shore. “I was getting worried.”
    â€œSorry I’m late, guys,” Crescent replied. “I’ll explain later. This is Daniel. Daniel, meet my friends, Neil and Graham.”
    Daniel, who was clutching the gunwales as if his life depended on it, said hi and let go with one hand just long enough to give them a quick wave.
    â€œClimb in,” Crescent said.
    There was barely room in the little dinghy for the four of them and the gunwales were now mere inches above the water. Daniel looked apprehensive.
    â€œDaniel’s from New York,” Crescent said, as if that explained everything.
    â€œNew York!”
Graham exclaimed. “Must be neat to see the Empire State Building. A marvel of engineering – they say the top sways only one and a half inches in a 110 mile-an-hour wind.”
    New York! Neil thought.