Jo interrupted Ann before she could answer such an astonishingly rude question. “I don’t know that that is for you to worry about,” Jo said, and though his words were discourteous, his voice was quietly polite.
“Oh,” Warren Bain apologized, “I was just interested. I didn’t mean to be pryin’. It really ain’t none of my business.”
Ann thought that he was going to laugh at their indignation, but he did not. He lounged against the door and watched them as they went away up the lane.
When she thought that they must be completely out of sight, Ann turned excitedly to Jo. “You don’t suppose that he knows anything about the wrecked schooner?” she whispered breathlessly, although the man couldn’t hear, not possibly. “Perhaps he doesn’t want to have us play on it and perhaps interfere with whatever he plans to do.”
“Gee, Ann!” exclaimed Ben. “You have brains! I’ll bet that he knows something! No man would have acted in such a strange way for no reason at all.”
“What do you think, Jo?” insisted Ann.
Jo did not answer for another moment. He thought for a little space, piecing together all the different things that had happened—especially trying to tie them up with that lantern and the fire in the woods.
“I think you are right, Ann,” he said at last. “I believe he does know something, and we will watch him as well as the ship.”