The three men were gravely regarding the six trunks. Miss Chalmers caught her breath.
Too late now! She could never disappear from Witherbee's Island and explain those trunks. Yet she knew this, too; she never, though the heavens might fall upon her otherwise, would step forth and proclaim herself to three men in pajamas.
Mr. Witherbee advanced to the nearest trunk and inspected it by the light of his lantern.
"Well, what do you know about that!" he exclaimed.
"'Pon my word, I know nothing whatever about it, my dear fellow," said the tall one.
"These are Miss Chalmers's trunks," declared Mr. Witherbee in a voice of wonder as he examined another.
The young man with the revolver made an inspection of his own and avowed that Mr. Witherbee was right. The tall one stroked his mustache and said nothing.
"But she's not expected till to-morrow!" cried Mr. Witherbee. "How the deuce did her trunks get here?"
"Must have sent them on ahead," observed the armed one.
"But who brought 'em? When? The boat didn't stop here to-night."