There was a little smile both of perplexity and amusement in Geddie's
eyes as he set the bottle down, and laid three cigars side by side
on his desk. He fetched his steamer chair from the gallery, and
stretched himself comfortably. He would smoke those three cigars
while considering the problem.

For it amounted to a problem. He almost wished that he had not found
the bottle; but the bottle was there. Why should it have drifted in
from the sea, whence come so many disquieting things, to disturb his
peace?

In this dreamy land, where time seemed so redundant, he had fallen
into the habit of bestowing much thought upon even trifling matters.

He bagan to speculate upon many fanciful theories concerning the
story of the bottle, rejecting each in turn.

Ships in danger of wreck or disablement sometimes cast forth such
precarious messengers calling for aid. But he had seen the ~Idalia~
not three hours before, safe and speeding. Suppose the crew had
mutinied and imprisoned the passengers below, and the message was one
begging for succor! But, premising such an improbable outrage, would
the agitated captives have taken the pains to fill four pages of
note-paper with carefully penned arguments to their rescue.

Thus by elimination he soon rid the matter of the more unlikely
theories, and was reduced--though aversely--to the less assailable
ones that the bottle contained a message to himself. Ida knew he
was in Coralio; she must have launched the bottle while the yacht