"My dear good man," said Pratt, blandly, "we're only too anxious to give every assistance to the officer of the law; but, as you see, we're in a great state of nervous agitation. D'you think Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were in a condition to answer questions after their experience of the fiery furnace? Abed we go, if Mr. Rogers will oblige us. Come up in the morning, constable; you're all losing your beauty sleep. In the morning we'll swear affidavits, or whatever it is you want. To-night we're too tired even to swear. Good-night."
CHAPTER XIV
A CIRCULAR TOUR
Fatigued though they were, the boys lay long awake in the room Mrs. Rogers provided for them, discussing the situation into which they had been thrown by the fire, and their plans for the future. They had saved next to nothing but their clothes. If they were to start another camp a new tent--almost a complete new outfit--would be necessary. Pratt suggested that they should accept Mr. Crawshay's offer and take up their abode with him until the mystery of the island had been solved; but this idea was opposed by the others, Armstrong in particular pointing out that they would stand a better chance of success if they remained more closely in touch with their former encampment.
"We must do our best to throw the beggars off the scent," he said. "If we rig up barbed wire round our new camp, they'll imagine we're merely on the defensive, and the longer we keep up that illusion, the better."
"I agree," said Warrender. "There can't be the slightest doubt now that something is going on on the island that they'll stick at nothing to prevent our discovering. We've got to make them believe we can't see farther than the ends of our noses, so we must keep quiet, pretend we think the fire was caused by our cigarettes--anything to put them off their guard. But, of course, we must take the first opportunity of making another search in the ruins. It's as plain as a pikestaff that that moaning sound is artificial; that is to say, they've got some sort of an instrument rigged up that catches the wind just when they wish, and only then. And that signal must have something to do with their schemes; I'm inclined to think you're mistaken, Armstrong, and it's not S.O.S. at all."
"Perhaps," replied Armstrong.
"I stick to it that Molly Rogers or Rod is in distress," said Pratt. "Rogers was a seaman, and there's nothing unlikely in his sister knowing something of Morse. I had a passion for ciphers at one time, and my sister Joan was very keen on it, I can tell you. Anyway, we'll ask Rogers in the morning."
They got up to a late breakfast. Rogers brought them their bacon and eggs, and they were struck by a peculiarity in his appearance.
"I say, Rogers, what's happened to your beautiful auburn locks?" asked Pratt.