But Audrey,
turning away from the successful result of their labours, suddenly
glanced at Copplestone with a look that challenged an answer to her own
thoughts. They were standing a little apart from the others and she
lowered her voice.
"I say!" she murmured. "I don't think we need have bothered ourselves to
light that fire. That vessel, whatever it is, is making for us. Look!"
Copplestone shaded his eyes and stared out across the sea. The steamer
was by that time no more than two or three miles away. But she was coming
towards them in a dead straight line, and as she was accordingly bow on,
and as her top deck and lamps were obscured by clouds of black smoke,
pouring furiously from her funnels, they could make little out of her
appearance. Copplestone's first notion was that she was a naval patrol
boat, or a torpedo destroyer. Whatever she was it seemed certain that she
was heading direct for the island, at that very point on which the
fugitives had been landed the previous night. And it was very evident
that she was in a great hurry to make her objective.
"I think you're right," he said, turning to Audrey. "But it's strange
that any vessel should be making for an uninhabited island like this.
What--but you've got some notion in your mind?" he broke off suddenly,
seeing her glance at him again. "What is it?"
Audrey shook her head, with a cautious look at Chatfield.
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