Her gaze fell upon the cocoanut shell lamp, its bowl nearly exhausted of oil.
“Lorinda,” she inquired, “is this room usually lighted?”
“Why, no.”
“When Salt and I were here, we saw the cocoanut shell lamp burning. A little oil is left in it now.”
“I can’t imagine how it came to be there,” Lorinda said in a hushed voice. “My stepfather may have filled it long ago, but he certainly never spoke of it.”
Hurriedly the girls left the cottage, closing the door tightly behind them. Lorinda tested it twice to make certain the lock had caught.
“The sound of those drums—” she murmured. “Penny, did I imagine it?”
“I assure you, you didn’t. I heard them too.”
“Then the sound came from the beach,” Lorinda declared firmly. “It couldn’t have been otherwise. No one is anywhere around here.”
“Let’s go to the beach and look around,” Penny proposed.