“As you children are so interested,” Bain continued, “it won’t do any harm to let you see the whole of it. Do you want to see where Rand hid the money?”
“You’d better believe we do!” exclaimed Jo.
Even Tom showed signs of excitement at this, although any chance of his getting any of that money had vanished, money for which he had thrown away all freedom for the rest of his life.
“It is just where Rand left it,” said Bain, “double safe and out of his cabin. I knew that Tom was around because the blankets here were shifted.”
“But it wasn’t Tom,” Ann said quite defiantly. “We did it, to see if they were being used.”
“H-u-mm—” said Bain.
“And you aren’t solving any of our mysteries,” Ann went on. “You’re clearing things up for the sailors and Mr. Bailey, but I want to know what made the noise that frightened us, and frightened you, too, last night.”
“That’s true,” admitted Bain. He rumpled the hair on his head, knocking his cap sidewise. “And I knew that you must have heard it, some time or other, when you used it just now to scare the men away from me.” He looked at Mr. Seymour. “You haven’t heard the half of it yet. These children had the wit to imitate this strange noise in order to frighten these gentlemen away from trying to make me tell where to find Rand’s money. The scheme would have worked, too; Charlie’s nerve was gone and Tom’s was growing weak. Our Charlie was half paralyzed with fright when you came. That’s why you held them up so easily.”
Ann and her father exchanged a glance; she was glad he knew without her telling of her splendid idea. It might have sounded like boasting. And to have her father proud of her was one of the things Ann most desired.
“When we were watching them by their camp fire I heard them say that the noise frightened them,” she explained modestly.