Mr. Morton seated himself on the string-piece and allowed his glance to encompass her baggage.
"We saw your boxes last night," he remarked after a study.
"Indeed?"
Miss Chalmers spoke cautiously.
"Quite a surprise, you know, to Mr. Witherbee and all of us. We were looking for a rascal—a scoundrelly thief, by Jove—and all we found were your boxes. They're tremendously prompt with luggage in this country, aren't they? Why, they get it there ahead of you!"
"Sometimes," she admitted. "Did I understand you to say something about a burglar?"
"A burglar," he confirmed. "He rang the alarm, you know. Woke us all up. Rotten nuisance. Hunted all over the island. Found nothing—except your boxes. The bally bell woke the whole house."
He looked rather fixedly at Miss Chalmers.
"Awfully odd about that other bell, wasn't it?" he observed. "Quite startled me, you know. Made me drop my glasses. Must have been thinking of burglar-alarms."
"It was probably an echo of the alarm," she suggested.