All at once the dog saw the fleeing figure and in powerful surging leaps, he came bounding across the lawn.
The girl splashed into the water.
Mason could see that she was holding some object in her right hand. Her left hand grabbed up the folds of her skirt. She made four or five long, splashing jumps, then, falling headlong as the water deepened, started to swim.
The dog, running silently, reached the edge of the lawn, cleared the short strip of sandy beach, made a long, flying leap into the water, and started swimming.
He was close enough so that Mason could hear the little whining noises of eagerness in the animal’s throat as he swam with shoulders high out of the water.
The frantic young woman had crossed the bow of Mason’s canoe, apparently without seeing it The dog, in deep water, was now less sure of himself.
Thrusting the blade of his paddle into the water, Mason shot the canoe-into the space between the girl and the pin-suing dog. With the paddle he pushed against the dog’s shoulder, swinging him around so that the animal was pointed back toward the shore.
The dog gave a growling, angry bark, whirled and grabbed the blade of the paddle with his teeth, hung on.
Mason twisted the paddle, turning the dog over in the water, forcing him to let go his hold.
For a moment, with the water in his eyes, the dog was confused. Then he started swimming once more, powerfully, purposefully.
Again Mason pushed the dog completely around. Again the dog snapped at the blade of the paddle.
The young woman, now aware of what was going on, was using all her strength to put distance between herself and the dog.
A third time Mason pushed his paddle against the swimming animal. The dog once more grabbed the blade of the paddle. Once more, Mason twisted him over on his back, held him momentarily under water, and this time when the confused animal reached the surface he was swimming back toward the island.
Mason turned the canoe, sent it swiftly to the exhausted girl.
“Get in,” he said. “Climb in over the bow so you don’t upset us.”
She glanced over her shoulder to look at him, a swift, desperate appraisal. Then, as though realizing she had no other alternative, she raised her right hand, dropped something into the bow of the canoe. Then, catching hold of the bow with two hands, one on each side, she suddenly raised herself with a powerful thrust of strong young arms, and came over the bow, sliding along to lie momentarily flat on her stomach, kicking her legs clear of the water. Then she rolled over with a swift, lithe motion, doubled her knees under her, pulled down her wet dress and said gaspingly, “I don’t know … who you are … but you’d better paddle like helll”
Flashlights, flickering like fireflies, appeared on the shore, and Mason heard someone shout, “There she isl She’s swimming.”
After a second or two, another voice said, “No, it’s the dog. He’s coming backl”
The flashlights momentarily converged on the dog, then raised, and questing beams circled out over the dark waters.
One of the more powerful flashlights caught the canoe. Mason promptly ceased paddling, kept his back turned, his face down, and said to the girl, “Better keep your head down.”
“I know,” she said, her head lowered. “Damn these low necklines. I would have to be betrayed by the styles … I feel as prominent as a silk hat at snowballing time … Wish I had something that would cover up these shoulders.”
A man’s voice from the shore shouted, “There’s a boat out there. That’s a boat, I tell you!”
For a few moments the flashlight held the canoe, then lost it, and circled blindly as the searchers failed to make allowance for the drifting tide.
Mason used the paddle once more, sending the canoe out farther from the shore and down the bay, speeding along on the tide.
“Well?” he asked, at length.
She said, “Thanks for the buggy ride. Only it’s a canoe.”
“I’m afraid,” Mason told her, “it’s going to take a little more than that.”
“To do what?”
“To square things.”
“What things?”
“My conscience, for one.”
“What’s the matter with your conscience? Is it unusually tender?”
“No. Only usually tender.”
She said, “Let me get my breath and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Out to my yacht. It’s a little job, the Kathy-Kay, and I'll have to get my bearings to…”
Mason said, “Well stay here on neutral territory until we know what the situation is. I acted on impulse. The sight of that dog dashing after you with bared fangs speeded my generous impulses.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Who you are, what you were after.”
“Oh, I see. You’re willing to be a dashing knight, but you also want to be a careful knight.”
“Exactly.”
“After all, you know, I’m an international gem thief and those are the dowager’s jewels I just tossed in the bottom of the canoe.”
“Intended as a joke,” Mason said, “but since it was your idea, well investigate it”
“Oh, all right,” she said. “IH tell you, but give me a few seconds to catch my breath.” She remembered to exaggerate her breathlessness while she fought for time.
“And give you a chance to think up a story?” Mason asked.
“Don’t be silly. You should try running from a vicious dog. I felt like the mechanical rabbit in a dog race.”
“And moved just about as fast,” Mason said.
“The water saved me,” she admitted. “And you with your providential canoe. How did you happen to be there?”
Mason grinned. “Let me puff, puff get my breath, and then I’ll puff, puff tell you all about it”
She laughed, squirmed around to a more comfortable position, and sized him up.
The moonlight fell on her face, and Mason saw young symmetrical features, deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, a short nose, a full-lipped but small mouth, and a figure clothed in clinging wet garments which outlined it admirably.
She said frankly, “I feel naked. One doesn’t wear much under these dresses, and it certainly clings, doesn’t it?”
“Any time,” he told her.
“Any time, what?”
“That you have recovered your breath, you may tell me about your loot.”
“Oh, that,” she said. “Sit tight and don’t be frightened. I’m accustomed to canoes. I won’t tip it over.”
She swung quickly, moving with such a sure sense of balance that the canoe hardly swayed. She reached into the bow, raised an object which glistened in the moonlight, and extended it to the lawyer. “There are the dowager’s diamonds,” she said.
The object was a plain glass bottle carefully stoppered, roughened on one side as though half of the bottle had been made of ground glass. On the inside was something white, not a liquid, but what seemed to be a piece of tightly rolled paper.
Mason shook the bottle, then held it up so that he could better inspect it in the moonlight
“The jewels,” the girl said dryly. “I suppose now I can count on being turned over to the police.”
“What the deuce is this?” Mason asked.
“It’s a bottle with a piece of paper in it.”
Mason put down the bottle to study the girl more carefully. “And is there perhaps,” he asked, “some other trinket that goes with it? Perhaps a diamond ring or a watch or something?”
“Concealed on my person?” she asked, indicating the lines of her wet dress. “In this outfit, Mr. Inquisitor? I couldn’t smuggle a postage stamp, let alone a rhinestone.”
From the direction of the wharf came the sputtering sound of a motor, then a choking backfire, followed by a sudden roar of staccato explosions.