"Really now, could it have been? Odd idea that. And you might be right, you know. You might be terrifically right, Miss Chalmers. They say your echoes travel tremendous distances in this country."
Miss Chalmers was vaguely uneasy. She felt that she was suspected as to the six-o'clock bell. She could not be sure, but he stared rather hard. Nor was she reassured when Mr. Morton coupled it in his memory with the ringing of the midnight chime in Witherbee House.
Perhaps it was natural enough to make the association; they were both bells, and both were abrupt and startling. But—well, she wondered if the man in the wet flannels was really a clever person.
"Are there many burglaries here?" she asked.
"I can't speak for the other islands, of course," he replied. "But this was the first for Mr. Witherbee. Fine chap, Mr. Witherbee. I'm just a guest, you know."
"Was anything stolen?"
Miss Chalmers asked the question perfunctorily.
"Upon my word, not a thing! Rather a joke, you know, too, because he left a clue."
"A clue?"
She sat up straight on her trunk.