“That’s possible, of course,” Mr. Dixon said. “Those wind-scoops jut out a good way; I don’t believe any one looking down would see a light shielded by one. The watch is well kept—but all that the men think of looking for is a decided ray of light from a cabin window.”
“H’m!” said the captain. “You didn’t find out who occupies the suspected cabin?”
“No,” Jim answered. “We thought of doing so, but Dad reckoned it might excite suspicion if we took any steps. So we haven’t done anything.”
“Quite right. The purser can tell me easily enough.” The captain paused, and knitted his brow in thought.
“Well,” he said, at length, “it may be innocent enough—but it doesn’t sound so. I’m giving you three credit for being fairly acute observers; I don’t think you’d jump to wild conclusions.”
“We were awfully scared of making fools of ourselves!” Jim said, laughing.
“Very wholesome feeling. Anyhow, I’ll speak to the purser, and make a few inquiries. And as it’s your case, so to speak, perhaps you would all come up here this afternoon and have tea with me, and I’ll tell you anything I’ve found out. Bring your father.”
“Thanks, awfully,” said the deputation, greatly relieved at being taken so seriously.
“I don’t think I need mention that ‘a still tongue makes a wise head,’ or any sage proverb of that description?” said the captain, with a smile.
“I don’t think so,” Jim answered. “If you have a raid, Captain, may we be in it?”