Tiptoeing down the room without the least sound, she climbed upon her berth, which was made up for the night. By propping herself upright on her knees she could just see through a small, circular window. This window was directly opposite the opening made by propping up the canvas.

Florence had placed herself between Marian and the candle. No light fell upon Marian to betray her presence. When one is in a dark room at night, he may peer into the moonlit outer world without being seen. Marian had poised there motionless for a full moment when, without altering her position other than turning her head, she whispered:

"Lucile, bring me that bottle of gas."

Understanding at once what bottle was meant, Lucile tiptoed down the length of the room, managed to open the laboratory door without noise, then put her hand to the shelf where the "Quick Action Gas" was kept.

With this in her hand she returned to Marian. She whispered as she pa.s.sed it up to her:

"Be careful not to drop it in here. It would drive us all out and we're hardly dressed for that."

Shrugging her shoulders beneath her dressing gown, Marian placed the bottle on the blankets, then reached for the catch which kept the window closed. This window was seldom opened and she was not sure but that the unused hinges would give out a rusty squeak. In this case her purpose would be thwarted. She could but try.

Catching her breath, she turned the handle, then gave a slight pull. To her immense relief, there came no sound as the window swung inward.

Seizing the bottle, she brought her hand even with her head, then sat poised there quite motionless as if impersonating the statue of a hand-grenade thrower.

Then, suddenly, her whole body became tense. The hand holding the bottle flew back. It shot forward.

CHAPTER VII THE MYSTERY DEEPENS

When they saw Marian's hand go back for the throw, the two other girls, their fear overcome by curiosity, sprang silently to a position beside their companion.

What they saw made them draw back in fright. Two rounds of a ladder extended above the outer rim of the boat. Above the last round appeared a face. This face, though almost completely hidden by a heavy m.u.f.fler, was undoubtedly that of a man.

Before they had time to move, however, they saw the bottle of liquid gas strike the top rail and burst. The liquid spattering over the man's face and clothing, brought forth a sharp exclamation. The next instant, seeming to struggle against an invisible foe, he made desperate attempts to dismount from his lofty position. In this he was partially successful.

He disappeared from sight. But the next moment there came the thud of a falling body. The ladder was still in position. The three girls held their breath.

"He fell," said Lucile in a tremulous whisper.

"I only hope he--"

"No you don't!" Lucile interrupted. "No one wishes a person seriously injured." Lucile shuddered.

"Well, anyway he wasn't," said Florence, "for there he is. The gas is working splendidly."

The man was dancing about below, swinging his arms and shouting madly.

"Like a drunken man," whispered Marian, with a frightened laugh.

"He'll be over it in a minute," said Lucile. "Liquid's all over his clothes--keeps evaporating and getting into his lungs."

True to Lucile's prophecy, the man, a few moments later, having calmed down, appeared to pause to consider. It was evident that he wavered between two opinions. Twice he started in the direction of the ship, each time sending cold chills creeping up Lucile's spine.

"We have no more gas," she whispered.

"Make it sulphuric acid this time!" Marian whispered savagely.

"No! No! You couldn't!" Lucile shuddered.

Pausing each time, the man turned back. The second time he wheeled about and, racing madly down the beach, disappeared beyond a long line of pleasure boats.

"Well," said Florence, gathering her dressing gown about her and springing through the window, "we have a ladder. Looks like a good one."

"It _is_ a good one!" she exclaimed a moment later, "a brand new one.

We'll show it to Timmie. Perhaps it will serve as evidence to trap the rascal."

"Speaking of rascals," said Marian a few moments later as they sat looking at one another in silence, "what do you think is the meaning of all this?"

"Perhaps he came for the blue candlestick," Lucile suggested.

"How could he?" demanded Florence. "How would he know we had it? What would he want of it? It's only a curio. Belongs to the museum, I guess.

Anyway, I'll see to-morrow. I'm going to take it to the new museum and show it to one of the curators, a Mr. Cole. I met him at a party on the campus a short while ago."

Suddenly Lucile sprang to her feet, then rushed to the other end of the room.

"Wha--what's the matter?" demanded Marian.

"Going to prepare some more gas," Lucile called back over her shoulder.

"Nothing like having a little chemist in the family these days. Gas is almost as useful in times of peace as it was in the days of war."

Next morning Marian showed the ladder to the aged dry dock keeper.

"No," he said after examining it carefully, "I never saw that before.

It's new and not very heavy. Probably bought for the purpose and carried here. You say you didn't see the man's face?"

"Not much of it."

"Wouldn't recognize him?"

"Probably not."

"Well, I'll go round and see the folks close to here that sell ladders, but I guess it won't be any use. There's too many places where you can get ladders in a big city like this. He might 'a' stole it too. Mighty queer!" He shook his head as he walked away.

That same day Florence wrapped the blue candlestick carefully in tissue paper, snapped three rubber bands about it, then made her way with it to the surface line where she took a car for down town. She kept a close watch to the right, to the left and back of her for any signs of being followed. She scrutinized the faces of those who entered the car with her and even cast a glance behind the car to see if there chanced to be a taxi following.

Truth was, the events of the last hours had played havoc with her nerves.

The candlestick in her possession was like the presence of some supernatural thing. It haunted her even in the day, as a thought of ghosts in a lonely spot at night might have tormented her.

It was with a distinct sense of relief that, after leaving the car and pa.s.sing over a half mile of board-walk, she entered the ma.s.sive door of the new museum.

For a moment, after entering, she permitted her eyes to roam up and down its vast, high-vaulted corridors, to catch the echo of voices which came murmuring to her from everywhere.

She saw the ma.s.sive pillars, the polished floors, the miles of gla.s.s cases, then a distinct sense of sorrow swept over her, a feeling of pity for the ragged giant of a building out by the lake front which had once housed all these treasures of beauty, antiquity and wealth.

"Temporary! Temporary" kept running through her mind. "Too hastily built and of poor material. Now it is abandoned to decay. Life is like that.