"Yes, sir. You see, the edge of the paper is browned. The whole letter was probably thrown into the fire on the hearth and this piece failed to be destroyed."
"You've hit it right, I fancy," agreed the officer. "Something queer about this old woman and about this place."
"She knows we are from the Kennebunk, too. How should she know so much if she wasn't in with the spies?"
"And she knew too much about the steamer being mined in the channel over there," muttered Mr. MacMasters.
"It looks as if we were watched by the spies and that she is in cahoots with them," Whistler suggested.
"Humph! Maybe. You can't read this letter, I suppose, Morgan?"
"No, sir. None of us boys read German. Not even Ikey, although he understands the language quick enough when it is spoken. And poor Ikey isn't here!"
"Don't worry about that," advised Mr. MacMasters. Then: "I do not think any of the men can translate German. Of course there is probably nothing on this paper of present moment to us.
"What we should do first is to find the rest of our crowd and get off this island. The Kennebunk will be coming back up the coast and we'll miss her altogether."
"I hope the other boys are safe," sighed Whistler anxiously.