"Accepting your theory, then," remarked the man with the pistol, "whoever rang the burglar-alarm has already escaped, so we can all go to bed."
"Clever as the deuce!" said the tall man.
"I don't suppose there is much more use in looking," admitted Mr. Witherbee reluctantly.
(His ankles were not cold.)
"You don't guess he could have hid in the boathouse, do you?"
Miss Chalmers shivered.
"It's locked," said the armed one. "He wouldn't bother with the boat-house. You can bet he's not on the island now. What'll we do with the trunks?"
"Leave 'em until morning. It's not going to rain," Mr. Witherbee observed. "But, by jingo! I'd like to get that fellow!"
"So would I. But what's the use now? Listen! The folks are calling. I guess we'd better go back and tell them it's all over."
"All right," sighed Mr. Witherbee, picking up his lantern.