“Thank you very much,” replied Stockham Calvert, rising to his feet; “but I came over in a rowboat which is waiting to take me back. I engaged my room at the inn this afternoon.”
He bade them good night and walked briskly down the slope. The boys stood in front of the bungalow until they heard the sound of the oars and saw the dim outlines of the boat and its occupants heading eastward toward the twinkling lights from the inn and cottages on Squirrel Island.
“What do you make of it all?” asked Alvin of his chum, when after some minutes they returned to the big sitting room.
“I don’t know how to answer you,” replied Chester. “It looks to me as if we are bound to have lively times before we get through with the business. But, Alvin, all the time that man was talking I felt a curious distrust of him. He said he is a detective, but I’m not sure of it.”
“Suppose he belongs to the gang that is playing the mischief with Uncle Sam’s post offices in this part of the Union?”
“If that were so, what in the world can he want of you and your boat?”
“Because of its fleetness it may serve him when he needs it. However, I don’t see that any harm can come to it or to us. He can’t pick up the launch and run away with it and he would find it hard to do so with us.”
“Not forgetting Mike Murphy.”
“Then you accept his proposal?”
“Not I, but we together.”