“Where?” Meg sat up all alert.
Florence told her as best she could.
“I’ll go get it.” Meg dragged her coat from its hanger.
“No! No! Don’t!” Florence exclaimed, springing up. “It’s dangerous.”
“What’s to be afraid of?” laughed Meg. “Don’t everybody on the pier know me? Even the watch-dog knows me? As for your late friend and follower, I’ll just take my belaying pin along. But I guess he’s far enough away by now. Watch me. I’ll be back in half an hour with that bag—you wait and see.”
With a rush that let in a great gust of cold air and snow, she was out of the cabin and away.
The greater part of what she had said to Florence was true. She did know the dock as well as any ship on which she had ever sailed. She knew the watchman and his dog. But, without her knowledge, there was one person in authority by the pier that night who did not know her and this the two girls were to learn to their sorrow.
* * * * * * * *
Seeing a heavy dressing gown hanging in the corner, Florence rose and, discarding her blanket, put this robe on. Then, after feeling of her slowly drying clothes and moving her skirt closer to the stove, she walked to the door and locked it.
“Meg may not be afraid of that man,” she whispered to herself, “but I am.”