Dick did so, and Andrew took off the oil-container, which was nearly full, and examined the burner. There was nothing wrong, and Whitney noted the good workmanship of the fittings.
"It couldn't go out," he said decidedly.
"That," Andrew replied, frowning, "is my opinion; but as I came down to the gutter I saw only two rows of footsteps, and you made those in coming and going back to the dinghy. I can't say there wasn't another track, because the light was faint so far from the boat; but we might look about the deck and cabin-top to see if anybody has been on board."
"I'm afraid I mussed that all up with sand," Whitney pointed out.
"But who'd want to come on board?" Dick asked. "Theft could be the only object, and we'll soon find out about that."
They looked round the cabin, but missed nothing.
"A thief wouldn't have put out the light, because he'd know that might bring us back before he got away," Dick elucidated; then turned to Whitney. "What do you think?"
"Well," said Whitney, smiling. "I've only one suggestion and it's rather far-fetched. The thing might have been a plot to make us lose the boat or, perhaps, make an end of us. If that's so, it nearly succeeded."
"Rot!" exclaimed Andrew. "Nobody would be twopence the richer for putting me out of the way."
"And I haven't an enemy in the world—unless it's myself," Dick grinned. "I don't count the Kaiser, because the bad feeling's patriotic; I've nothing personal against him."