Ben was staring through the window at the trees glistening in the sunlight. “I think that box was hidden in the cliff since we’ve been on the island,” he said reflectively, “and I don’t believe that any of the things in it ever came from Cotterell Hall.”
“You don’t!” exclaimed Tuckerman.
“And that means,” continued Ben, who was following the line of his own thoughts, “that somebody was trying to set us on a wrong trail by hiding those two pieces of parchment in this house.”
“But what object would anyone have in doing that?” Tuckerman asked. “I can’t see any good reason for their taking so much trouble.” He considered this idea for several minutes, while Ben continued his study of the trees and the glimpse of blue water that was to be seen from the window.
“And we thought we’d kept the problem of the Cotterell treasure pretty much a secret,” Tuckerman said presently.
“Gigantic footprints, lady’s handkerchief, men prowling about the house in the dark.” Ben chuckled softly. “That doesn’t look as if we had the island much to ourselves, does it?”
“No,” Tuckerman admitted. “We haven’t kept up the Cotterell tradition for exclusiveness.”
“Well,” said Ben, “if somebody has been trying to set us on a wrong trail, the question is was it the giant, the lady, or the night-prowlers? Or did the three belong to one party.”
“The lady is a stumbling-block,” nodded Tuckerman.
“If there were two parties,” said Ben, turning around, “my own opinion is that it’s the giant and the lady who’ve been making game of us.”