“It looks as if a lamp is burning inside. But the cottage must be deserted!”
Salt peeped through the window. “It is a light—an oil flame!” he exclaimed. “But there’s no one in the room.”
“Let’s go,” said Penny with a shiver. “It’s getting late and we’re due back at the office.”
“Not scared, are you?” the photographer teased.
“Of course not! But the door is locked, and we’re not supposed to be here.”
Salt tested the window. Surprisingly, it raised easily.
“Here, I’ll boost you in,” he offered. “Up you go! Then you can unlock the door and let me in.”
“Oh, Salt, should we?”
“Why not?” he argued. “We were sent to get a story and pictures, weren’t we? Well, maybe what we’re after is right here.”
Only half convinced, Penny permitted herself to be boosted through the window. She dropped lightly onto a wooden floor. The interior of the cottage was gloomy, brightened only by a flickering flame which came from a floating wick in a cocoanut shell filled with oil.