“Because the car won’t be waiting for us. Everything’s got to move on schedule.”
As the night wore on, a light rain began to fall. Wessler and his companion went frequently to the windows, seemingly well pleased by the change of weather.
The ordeal of waiting was a cruel one for Louise and Penny. Although they knew that Old Noah had tossed their messages into the water, they held scant hope that any of the bottles would be found that night. While searching parties might continue to seek them, it was unlikely that they would be released in time to prevent the destruction of the Seventh Street Bridge.
Another hour elapsed. Wessler looked at his watch and spoke to his companion.
“Well, I’m shoving off! When you hear the explosion, lock ’em up in the bird room, and make for the shack. The car will pick you up.”
“Good luck, Jard,” Breneham responded.
Wessler went out the door, closing it behind him. The girls heard him lower the gangplank into place, and then his footsteps died away.
Penny gazed at Louise in despair. They both knew that Jard Wessler had gone to dynamite the Seventh Street Bridge. Although they were not certain of the plan, they believed that he intended to use Sara Ottman’s boat which doubtlessly would be loaded with explosives.
Breneham began to pace the floor nervously. Suddenly he halted by a porthole, listening. The girls too strained to hear.
“Someone’s out there in the trees!” Breneham muttered. “This ark is being watched! Noah, stick your head out the window and ask who it is! And no tricks!”