We were back in the saloon-cabin again when I touched the professor's arm, and in an instant the torch was out. I had caught the sound of splashing oars.
"Put the club back under the seat," said Quarles, and then, with movements stealthy as a cat's, he led the way to the galley door. We were in our hiding place not a moment too soon.
Two men came hurriedly down the companion. A match was struck, but there was not a chink in the boarding through which we could see into the cabin. It seemed certain they had not discovered our dinghy, and had no suspicion that they were not alone upon the yacht.
"It's plain enough. There's no other meaning to it." The speaker had a heavy voice, a gurgle in it, and I judged the heavier tread of the two was his. "Ninety feet, it says, captain; and we measured that string to exactly ninety feet."
"Feet might only refer to the four, and not to both figures," was the answer in a sharp, incisive voice.
"He said it was both."
"And I'm not sure he lied," returned the man addressed as captain. "The distance was originally paced out no doubt, and pacing out ninety feet ain't the same as an exact measurement."
"We made allowances," growled the other.
"We'd been wiser to go on looking instead of coming back. You're too previous, mate."
"You didn't trust him any more'n I did."