A CALL FROM HEADQUARTERS
It was not yet five o'clock when, the airplane safely stowed away and
the doors of the hangar closed and locked, the boys once more stood on
the skidway.
"What say to a plunge before we go up to the house?" proposed Frank.
"There's nobody to see us. We can strip down at the beach, splash
around for ten minutes, and then head home. It's a hot, sticky day and
that trip to the city left me with the feeling that I wanted to wash
something away."
The others agreed to the proposal and they started making their way to
the shore, discussing the latest turn of events on the way.
"It certainly looks as if your hunch about Higginbotham, when we met
him in his office, was justified," said Jack, clapping Frank on the
shoulder.
"The boy's a wonder," agreed Bob. Then, more seriously, he added:
"But, I say. Higginbotham isn't the man who flew the radio-controlled
plane before. I mean the fellow whose tracks I found in the sand. That
chap was peg-legged."
"That's right," agreed Jack. "And where does Higginbotham figure in
this matter, anyhow? It's some mystery."
"Well, let's see what we do know so far," suggested Frank. "It's
little enough that we have found out. But I like mysteries. First of
all, Bob finds a secret radio plant, and----"
"No," interrupted Jack. "First of all, I discover interference in the
receivers at a 1,375-meter wave length."
"Yes, that's right," said Frank. "Well, second is Bob's find of the
radio plant to which he is led by tracks in the sand made by a
peg-legged man. Look here. Bob thought at the time that man had
arrived in a boat. He saw marks on the sand indicating a boat had been
pulled up on the shore. Might not that have been the indentation made
by the radio plane?"
"Just what I was thinking to myself a minute ago," said Bob.
"Anyhow," continued Frank, "we then discovered the radio plane in
Starfish Cove. From Uncle George we learned a mysterious stranger had
recently bought the Brownell place, the 'haunted house,' and had
built a fence about the property and set armed guards to keep out
intruders. The plot was thickening all the time."
By now the boys had reached the shore and well above the tide mark
they began to strip, dropping their clothes in heaps. Frank continued
talking as he shed his garments:
"So we decided to go up to the city and ask Mr. McKay who it was had
taken the Brownell place. Instead of Mr. McKay we found his secretary,
Higginbotham, who professed to know nothing about the matter. Yet,
when we arrive down here, we find Higginbotham in the radio plane,
visiting a schooner well off shore.
"Say, fellows," he added, as having dropped the last article of
clothing, he stood prepared to plunge in; "that man Higginbotham must
have left his office immediately after we interviewed him, and
probably came down by motor car. We spent two or three hours longer in
the city, which gave him the chance to beat us. Now what brought him
down here?"
"Search me," said Bob. "There may be a big liquor plot, and he may be
in it. Probably, is. Perhaps he was alarmed at our inquiries and
hurried down to keep things quiet for a while."
"That's just what he did, Bob, I do believe," said Jack, approvingly.
"I believe you've hit it."
"Oh, well, come on," said Bob. "Let's have this plunge."
Scooping up two handsful of wet sand he flung it at his companions.
Then the fight began.
Forty-five minutes later, as they strolled across the lawn of the
Temple home, Della came running to join them from the tennis court
where she was playing with a girl visitor.
"Where have you been?" she cried. "Some man has been calling for the
three of you on the telephone. Two or three times in the last hour."
"Calling for us, Sis?" said Bob. "Who is he?"
"I don't know," she said. "He hasn't given his name. I believe he's
calling from New York."
The boys looked at each other, puzzled. Who could it be?
"Oh, there's Mary again," said Della, pointing to a maid who at that
moment emerged on the side veranda, overlooking the tennis court.
"Mister Robert, you're wanted on the telephone," came the maid's
voice.
Bob hurried indoors, Jack at his heels. Frank hung behind.
"Well, Mr. Frank Merrick," said Della pertly. "Give an account of
yourself, if you please. What were you boys doing in the city to-day?
You think you're grand, don't you, to go flying off in your airplane,
on the very day I invite a girl down here to meet you?"
"Is she good looking, Della?" asked Frank, anxiously. "I won't meet
her if she isn't good looking."
Della realized he was merely teasing, but she made a cruel thrust in
return.
"You don't expect a good looking girl to be interested in you, do
you?" she said.
Frank laughed, then reached out to seize her by the shoulders, but she
eluded his grasp and went speeding off across the lawn with him in
pursuit. They reached the tennis court, laughing and flushed, Della
still in the lead. There Della beckoned the other girl to them, and
managed introductions.
"This is that scatter-brained Frank Merrick, I told you about, Pete,"
she said. "Frank, this is my own particular pal at Miss Sefton's
School, Marjorie Faulkner, better known as Pete. If you can beat her
at tennis, you will have to play above your usual form."
"That so?" said Frank, entering into the spirit of badinage. "Give me
a racquet, and I'll take you both on for a set. About 6-0 ought to be
right, with me on the large end. Never saw a girl yet that could play
passable tennis."
"You scalawag," laughed Della. "When it was only my playing that
enabled us to beat Bob and Jack last light. Well, here's your racquet,
all waiting for you. Come on."
Della was a prophet. The slender, lithe Miss Faulkner, with her
tip-tilted nose, freckles, tan and all, proved to be almost as good a
player as Della herself. The result was that, although both games were
hotly contested, Frank lost the first two of the set. He was about to
start serving for the third game, when Bob and Jack, giving evidences
of considerable excitement, approached from the house.
"Hey, Frank, come here," called Bob.
Frank stood undecided, but Della called to her brother:
"He's a very busy boy, Bob. You and Jack better come and help him."
Noting the presence of the other girl, Bob and Jack came forward,
whereupon Della once more managed introductions. Bob, usually rather
embarrassed in the presence of girls, seemed at once at ease, and
apparently forgot entirely his urgent business with Frank. He and Miss
Faulkner fell into the gay chatter from which the others were
excluded. Jack seized the opportunity to pull Frank aside.
"Look here," he said. "Something has happened already. That call was
from one of the government prohibition enforcement agents up in New
York. He said Inspector Condon had carried our information and
surmises about our neighbors to him immediately after seeing us. He's
coming down to-night to the house. Said he thought he could make the
trip in about three hours, and would be here at 9 o'clock."
"Is that so?" said Frank. "Has Uncle George come home yet?"
"No, and he won't be home. It seems he telephoned earlier that he was
running down to Philadelphia on business for a day or two. He always
keeps a grip packed at his office, you know, for such emergencies."
Frank nodded, then looked thoughtful.
"He ought to be here, however," he said. "Well, anyway, there's your
father."
Jack shook his head.
"No, Dad planned to stay in town to-night at his club."
"Well," said Frank. "We'll have to handle this alone. I suppose,
however, this man just wants to talk with us at first hand and,
perhaps, by staying until to-morrow, get an idea of what's down here
for himself. He might even ask us to take him up in the plane over the
Brownell place, to-morrow."
"What did Bob say to him?"
"Told him to come on down," said Jack. "What else could he say? We had
told Inspector Condon that we placed ourselves at the government's
service. I expect I had better put him up at our house overnight. Then
we won't have to make any useless explanations to Mrs. Temple."
Frank nodded. Mrs. Temple, though kindly soul enough, was so involved
in social and club duties that she had little time to give the boys.
As a matter of fact, Frank was not at all certain that she would be at
home for dinner that night. As to putting up the stranger at Jack's
home, that would be an easy matter. Jack's mother was dead, and a
housekeeper managed the house and servants for himself and his father.
She was an amiable woman, and all Jack would have to do would be to
prefer a request that a guest room be prepared, and it would be done.
"Hey, Frank," called Bob, interrupting their aside; "see how this
strikes you? Miss Faulkner and I will play you and Della. We shall
have time for a set before dressing for dinner."
"Righto," agreed Frank, taking up his racquet, while Jack sank to the
turf bordering the court, to look on.
Bob really outplayed himself, and several times, when he approached
Della, Frank whispered to her that her brother was smitten and trying
to "show off" before the new girl. Della, well pleased, nodded
agreement. Nevertheless, Frank and Della played their best, and the
score stood at three-all when Jack hailed them from the sidelines with
the information that, unless they preferred being late to dinner, it
behooved them to quit playing and hasten indoors. Dinner at the
Temples was served promptly at 7 o'clock, and never delayed.
Accordingly, the game was broken up.
"Come along, Jack," said Frank, linking an arm in that of his pal;
"your father's not at home, and we won't let you dine in solitary
splendor. You are coming to dinner with us."