But no, he was not paying any attention to the porthole. Slowly he turned his head and glanced back over his shoulder to the door. Ann recognized the movement. So he was beginning to feel that strange sensation, too. Ann strained her ears to hear the mysterious noise that he must be hearing.
From the deck above the three, near the top of the ladder, faintly came the phantom sussh-sussh. Slowly it drew nearer and louder, then it came from a spot farther away; always moving nearer or farther, it came with the same rhythm, the first sussh heavy and scraping, the second lighter and with more of a rasp.
“Hold tight,” whispered Jo. “We’ll weather it through with Warren.”
But Warren had no intention of weathering through any such meeting. He reached his free hand into his coat pocket and brought out a heavy automatic which he cocked. Shifting the flashlight into his left hand he rushed out of the door and up the companionway.
“Hurry,” ordered Jo. “Slide into the shadows under the boat. Jump, Ben; I’m letting go of my side.”
The boys dropped together and Ann stepped down to the ground. Jo barely had time to take the ladder and cut under the stern of the boat. From their hiding place they could hear Bain run across the deck and they saw him swing out over the prow and drop. He switched off his flash as he landed on the beach and crept into the underbrush where the children had hidden to watch him go by. Then he was gone.
The shuffling noise had ceased as the three left the wreck and went home.
When they were once more under Ann’s window Jo exclaimed, “There goes Bain now! Out toward the swamp.”
And a sudden pinprick of light showed beneath the dense growth of pine on the edge of the wood.
“He was not the one who left that fire,” said Ann with conviction.