It was furniture. And so far as they could see, costly furniture, too. On the top of the pile of elaborately carved tables and chairs lay a big marble statue, its arms pathetically extended skyward. Poking about in the mass they soon unearthed a piano.
“See here, my men,” demanded the lieutenant sharply, turning to one of the bound captives, who had looked on in sullen silence, “what is your explanation of all this?”
“Guess the laugh is on you fellows,” was the rejoinder; “we were moving house for a fellow who lived at Setauket, but who wanted to shift his belongings to the mainland.”
“And so you sailed at night without lights, and armed, to repel anyone who asked you questions?” was the sharp rejoinder. “Oh no, my man, that won’t do at all.”
“Send Sim on board to hold the wheel a minute, will you?” asked Mr. Lockyer suddenly, from the submarine, which was still slowly forging ahead alongside, the tide holding her and the schooner together. “I’ve got an idea about that furniture,” he went on.
“You have?” asked the young officer; “well, come aboard then at once, and bring your solution with you, for I confess it beats me.”
Sim dropped over the side and relieved Mr. Lockyer at the wheel, while the inventor clambered on board the schooner. He bent over the pile of furniture projecting from the hold for a few minutes, then stood erect with a triumphant cry.
“I thought so,” he exclaimed. “This furniture, every stick of it, so far as I can make out, has been looted from Mr. Pangloss’s home. These fellows are the Sound Pirates who robbed him.”
“You are sure of this, Lockyer?” asked the officer; “if it is so we’ve done a good night’s work.”
“I am certain of it. I have often visited Mr. Pangloss’s home, and I recognize some of this stuff. If further proof were lacking what do you think of this?”