“I could not help it! I was frightened. It was—it was——”
“I know,” said Stewart, quickly. “I saw it. Don’t think about it—it has gone on downstream.”
“It—it seemed to be following me!” she gasped.
“Yes—I had the same feeling; but it’s away ahead of us now. Now, if you’re all right, we’ll work in toward the bank—it can’t be far off. Hullo! What’s that?”
A shadowy shape emerged from the darkness along the eastern shore, and they caught the rattle of oars in row-locks.
“They heard you scream,” whispered Stewart. “They’ve sent out a patrol to investigate,” and with all his strength he pushed on toward the farther bank.
Suddenly a shaft of light shot from the bow of the boat out across the water, sweeping up and down, dwelling upon this piece of driftwood and upon that. With a gasp of apprehension, Stewart swung the box around so that it screened them from the searchlight, and kept on swimming with all his strength.
“If they spot those bundles,” he panted, “they’ll be down upon us like a load of brick! Ah!”
The light was upon them. Above their heads the bundles of clothing stood out as if silhouetted against the midday sky. Stewart cursed his folly in placing them there; surely wet clothes were preferable to capture! He should not have taken the risk—he should have put the clothing inside the box and let it take its chance. But it was too late now. In another moment——
The light swept on.