“Benjamin, what are you driving at?”
For answer Ben laughed. “Never mind, Professor. If I should tell you what’s in my mind, and it shouldn’t prove to be true, think how flat I’d feel. And now I think it’s time we went back to camp if we’re going in swimming before dinner.”
Just before sunset that afternoon the chug of a motor-boat broke the stillness of the water around the island. The boat stole up to the landing-stage and two men got out. They went up the walk toward Cotterell Hall. “A beautiful mansion, Marmaduke,” said the man in the white flannel suit to the one in brown jacket and knickerbockers.
“I agree with you, Roderick,” said the other. “I suppose you would like to pick it up and carry it off to the Gables.”
“Not at all. But what is to prevent us from making use of it here? Sir Peter Cotterell defying the people of Barmouth.” Roderick Fitzhugh pointed in this direction and that, talking eagerly, until his companion interrupted him with a whispered, “They’re coming up in their sailboat.”
The Argo touched the landing-stage, and Fitzhugh and his friend went out on the pier. “Hello, lads,” cried Fitzhugh. “We came out to take a look at the famous island Ben told us about.”
“Did you learn anything about the thieves?” Tom called from the Argo.
“No, not yet. But we’ve got the local police scouring the country. I don’t expect much from them,” added Fitzhugh. “What I hope is that the rascals will make us another call.”
“We’ve been fishing,” said Ben. “Hope you’ll stay to supper.”
“Well,” said Fitzhugh, “I’ve got my guests at the Gables.”