When they had eaten and washed up at the kitchen sink, Bill instituted a thorough search for the message in their bedroom and in the library.
“It’s no use,” he said at last, “there just isn’t any message, and that’s that. I vote we pop down to the cove and have our dip now. Is it much of a jaunt?”
“Oh, no.” Charlie turned from peering through the curtains at the sunshine. “We can get into the shrubbery at the back door and keep under cover pretty well all the time. We’ll be taking chances, though. Dad wouldn’t let us go until after dark.”
“Well, he isn’t here,” Bill said casually. “I’m going for a swim. You can stay here, though, if you want to.”
“Not me,” declared the boy. “I’d rather be shot than stay in this house alone.”
“Where do we go from the grounds?”
“Right through the trees until we come to a rough sort of lane. It leads from the main road down to a little bay that’s just the place for a swim.”
“Fine. Now, listen to me, kid. If we happen to run into anybody and can’t make a bunk without being seen, we’ll go right up and speak to them openly. There’s no sense in arousing suspicions—or showing that we have any! We’ll say we’re on a walking tour along the coast, and saw the lane leading down to the sea—savez?”
“You betcha! And, oh, Bill, I forgot to say that we can’t swim out far. Dad told me that the currents round the point are the dickens and all.”
Armed with towels and soap, they let themselves out by the back door and darted into the bushes. With Charlie in the lead, they pushed through the trees, keeping a sharp lookout. Presently they reached the lane, and, without sighting a single creature, they found themselves on the beach.