“I think you’re right,” Mr. Linton said. “Go back to your cabin now, boys, and let Norah get to bed. We’ll hold a council in the morning.” The boys tip-toed away, and Norah crept into her berth, perfectly certain that she was far too excited ever to sleep again.
Then she suddenly found that she was very tired; and in five minutes she was sound asleep. The ship had not been disturbed by the sudden clamour of a moment; it was perfectly silent, in the sleepy hush before the dawn. Without, the second port-hole from her own loomed round and black. No further flashes came from it to mingle with the phosphorescent glimmer on the water below.
CHAPTER IX.
DETECTIVE WORK.
A deputation of three paused at the foot of the ladder leading to the captain’s quarters.
“You can’t keep it to yourselves,” Mr. Linton had said. “If there’s nothing in it, you might get yourselves into a good deal of trouble by interfering; and if your suspicions are correct, you want authority behind you. In either case the captain might resent your not reporting the matter to him. No, I won’t come; it’s your own party. I didn’t get out of my excellent bed in the small hours of the morning and wander round the ship acting Sherlock Holmes!”
“Norah, The Human Sleuth!” murmured Wally, admiringly.
Norah reddened. In the commonplace light of day she felt a little shaken about her discovery. It had seemed very certain in the night; now she wondered if it were indeed quite so sure a thing. Uncomfortable visions of bursting into the cabin of perhaps an innocent old lady, filled her mind.
“Be quiet!” said Jim, patting his chum on the head with more vigour than consideration. “Who upset himself?”
“That isn’t decent of you,” said Wally, rubbing his pate. “I’m still bruised, in mind and body. It’s evident that there’s nothing of the sleuth about this child. Well, you and Norah can go to the skipper.”