"Perhaps they did not want to," said Jack. "You can never tell what they want or mean. They have a system even the country fellows, and it covers a multitude of failures." He shook the can, put it to his ear, rolled it a few feet, picked it up again and laughed. "Mr. Mulligan won't find this can," he said, "Somehow it is attractive, and I am anxious as you girls to see what is in it. If we get in trouble for taking it—well, we'll see," and he led the way down to the Petrel.
On the water they passed the police boat, but the can of "red paint," was snugly resting under Laurel's skirts in the bottom of the boat.
"Will you tell your father at once, Laurel?" Cora asked.
"If he is well enough. Oh, I can scarcely wait. Coral, what wonderful good luck you brought to us," and she reached out her hand to press Cora's.
"Don't be too sure," cautioned the other, "it is not all cleared up yet."
"But I feel sure," she insisted. "Brentano was too clever to do anything half way."
"He certainly was a star," Jack admitted. "But I hope he will not insist upon keeping up the correspondence with Cora. He might give us the hoo-doo."
They were soon at their dock. The Peter Pan was tied, there, and that meant that Paul Hastings was at the bungalow. Jack thought instantly of Paul's employer, the banker, whose name Mr. Starr had mentioned. It did seem now that things were shaping themselves to tell all the story.
"Who is the stranger?" Cora asked, noticing a man in a dressing robe sitting on the little rustic porch.
"I—wonder—" Jack said.