Randy had gone out into the hall. Pep soon joined him and then Vic followed them.
“I feel as if I was in the way, somehow,” he observed.
“You needn’t,” responded Pep. “It’s a kind of a mystery to me, all this; but you can trust Frank Durham to clear things up if it’s possible. What do you think’s up, Randy?”
“Why it’s plain to be seen that some ship that Professor Barrington sent out, or that was coming to him, had someone aboard with ‘the great film,’ as they called it. The professor seems to have set great store by it, the way he acts.”
“But if that telegram says the ship is wrecked and nobody saved, what Frank expects to do is what is puzzling me,” observed Pep.
The trio tramped up and down the hall to pass the time. Then they went down to the lobby of the hotel. They sat down in arm chairs and tried to get interested in the guests about them. Pep, however, could not keep still. He had Randy on the jump, keeping track of his movements. Vic never spoke a word, but followed them about like a faithful dog.
Finally Pep ventured but into the street. The rain soon drove him and his companions under shelter again, however. Then they returned to their room. The professor still sat as they had seen him last. Mr. Strapp still seemed worried.
“See here, boys,” he spoke after a period of silence, “you had better get to bed. Durham may not be back for hours.”
“I sha’n’t stir a step until he comes back,” declared Pep, “I’m too worried to sleep.”
Randy seemed of the same mind, for he sat down as if planting himself for an all-night vigil, and Vic placidly followed his example. In about half an hour, however, Pep, glancing toward them, saw that both were napping.