this had been a day when she found it difficult to keep up with all her
obligations. It was her night for dish-washing duty. She had little to
do until the dirty dishes began to pile up, so she strolled around the
hall, talking to the service men. Suddenly she noticed Hazel Dawson at
the chessboard, and to her amazement saw that Chief Krome sat opposite.
She strolled over and put her hand caressingly on Hazel’s shoulder.
“How are you progressing?”
“Slow going, I fear. I never tried to learn such a complicated game.”
“She’s doing fine—really she is,” stated Krome. He glanced up and
recognized Kitty. “Oh, it’s you? Did the boys enjoy that shrimp creole
the other night?”
“Sure did, thanks to the recipe.”
Someone was playing a Brahms Waltz on the piano and Kitty hummed it
softly.
“Sing it, Kitty dear. Those were lovely words set to the music that you
sang for me the other night,” Hazel said, glancing up from her board.
“Do please, Kitty,” urged Jimmy Barnes, who stood near. “You’ve been
promising to sing for us a long time.”
“Come ahead,” said Brad, catching her hand and leading her toward the
piano.
“All right, if you insist,” said Kitty graciously.
No sooner had her rich mezzo-soprano voice swelled with the piano
accompaniment than the entire hall fell silent. Everyone turned toward
her to look and listen entranced. For a moment after the last notes
faded softly there was a breathless hush, then a storm of applause.
“More,” someone called out.
“Give us another,” a marine demanded.
Kitty leaned over and whispered to Sergeant Bradshaw at the piano.
Laughing, he began the Australian folk song that was such a rage,
_Waltzing Matilda_. Kitty sang the first verse, glancing around the
room with her flashing smile as the words raced from her lips. Then at
the chorus she lifted her hands with an impelling movement and said,
“Everybody sing.” Instantly the room rocked with nonsense and rhythm.
After the storm subsided Kitty sang _Tipperary_. While they clapped at
the conclusion she ran off to the Canteen kitchen. Ned Miller was sent
in to drag her out. She thrust her head through the doorway to call,
“It’s my night to wash dishes.”
“We’ll wash the dishes,” came a chorus in retort.
“Against the rules. I’ll sing another night.”
She was flushed and buoyantly happy when she closed the door and turned
back toward the sink.
“Gosh, you oughtn’t to be washing dishes!” exclaimed Sally. “Anybody
with a voice like that!”
“Fiddlesticks!” exclaimed Kitty. “They’re badly in need of dish
washers, and they obviously don’t need singers.”
“Don’t they?” burst forth Judy. “Why Kitty, they ought to send you
overseas to sing to the boys behind the fighting lines.”
“Don’t make fun of me, Judy.”
Judy had really voiced a wish that lay in the deepest recesses of
Kitty’s heart. To such a career as that her daydreaming had constantly
taken her since war began. But its fulfillment seemed beyond her
wildest dreams. The practical side of her nature had tried to still
those high ambitions as she planned to go first into the WAVES, and
later into Canteen work.
“You have a way with the boys that makes them laugh and cry, cheer and
clap,” continued Sally.
“She sure has. That’s the sort of entertainer they ought to be thrilled
to find,” added Judy.
Kitty didn’t tell them that a thousand times in her daydreaming she had
visioned herself doing what she had just done. It had given her the
greatest thrill she had ever known.
When she finished the dishes she had a free interval until another pile
accumulated, so she went outside to find Brad. She was eager to know
what he would think of her experience at the troop train.
“Say, Kit, they’re all crazy about your singing,” said Brad when she
joined him.
“Thanks, Brad.”
“Captain Crawford heard you, and said you surely ought to be with the
entertainers.”
“Oh, Brad, I’m not half good enough for that!”
“Of course you are! You’ll be surprised at what he went on to say.”
Her eyes were shining as she waited expectantly.
“Said he was going to write a friend of his—an official talent scout.
He said he must hear about you.”
“I can’t believe it!”
As they talked they crossed the long hall, and finally went out to
their quiet corner in the court.
“I’ve something to tell you,” Kitty said as they sat down. Then quickly
she gave him an account of her experience at the troop train.
“I’m not surprised,” Brad said. “I’ve felt rather sure Beeson must be
the middleman in this business, after what we picked up Sunday. That
tough old customer will be on the alert for you, if you ever go to the
island again.”
“I certainly intend to go.”
“Not without me. I’ve been wanting to go back again for another look
around.”
“I’ve got to carry Uncle Mose his dollar’s worth of smoking tobacco,
and write that letter for him.”
“Meeting that fellow from the Pacific does sort of put you under
obligations.”
“Guess I’d better get back to my dishes,” said Kitty, rising. “Judy
will be calling me a shirker if I don’t. She doesn’t enjoy this
dish-washing part of the job any more than I do.”
A few minutes later she was wielding the dish mop when Mrs. Evans came
in to say, “Kitty, someone wants you on the phone.”
She hurriedly crossed the hall to the near-by office, wondering if it
was her father. She received quite a shock when she heard Jane’s voice:
“Miss Kit, reckon you bettah come home.”
“Why? What’s wrong, Jane?”
“It’s Billy. Reckon he sick. He skin feel hot as fire to mah han’, and
he cough like he gwine choke to deaf.”
“I’ll be right home!” stated Kitty, and put down the phone with a bang.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MORE WORRIES
Kitty almost ran into Brad as she came from the telephone.
“What’s wrong, Kit?” he asked, seeing the misery in her face.
“Billy’s sick. I must go home at once.”
“I’ll borrow Bud Wilson’s car and take you,” he said.
“Thanks. That will help lots. I have to tell Mrs. Evans I’m going, and
get my coat.”
Brad was waiting near the kitchen door when she came out, his friend’s
car keys dangling on his finger.
“I really shouldn’t have left him tonight,” Kitty said contritely as
she jumped into the car. “Jane told me he was cross all day. He’s
always cross before he gets sick.”
Brad wasted no time in driving the five blocks to the house. He went in
with Kitty to see if there was anything he could do. Jane had heard
them coming and was already at the door to let them in when they
crossed the porch.
“How is he?” asked Kitty.
“Reckon he mighty sick, Miss Kit.”
Kitty hurried past her into Billy’s little room. He lay on the bed, his
round cheeks red, his mouth open as he struggled for breath. In a
moment she was sitting on the bed, bending over him.
“Where do you feel bad, darling?”
His little hand went to his throat. Terrified she thought of
diphtheria. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt bad before I went off?”
she chided.
He only moaned and tossed his head restlessly.
“I done call yo’ Pah, honey. He’s comin’ right home,” said Jane.
“Thanks, Jane. It’s nice to have someone so dependable.”
“I’ll take a look at that throat,” said Brad, “as soon as I wash my
hands.”
“Get him a fresh towel, Jane.”
Kitty turned the bedside lamp on the flushed little face when Brad came
back. She had already sent for a spoon to hold his tongue down. After
one glance inside that swollen throat Brad said, “Um, badly inflamed.
We’ve got to do something about this.”
He and Kitty exchanged anxious glances. They heard steps running up the
porch, and a moment later Mr. Carter was with them.
Kitty, met him at the door to whisper, “His throat. Oh, Dad, I’m so
afraid of diphtheria!”
Before going near the boy Mr. Carter went to the bathroom to wash up.
After a careful inspection of the throat he drew Kitty aside.
“Do you think it is?” she asked.
“Can’t tell. I’m going to take him straight up to the hospital. We’ll
soon know there. You get out the car while I bundle him up.”
“I’ll drive you over,” offered Brad. “I have Bud Wilson’s car out
there.”
Kitty wrapped Billy in a warm blanket so that only his nose was
exposed. They closed all the car windows, and Kitty sat in the back
while her father held the child on the front seat beside Brad.
She wondered contritely why this had to happen when she had left her
brother practically all day. Maybe if she had been home she would have
noticed that he was ill earlier.
Mr. Carter was allowed to stay in the room with Billy while Dr.
Fletcher examined him. In the meantime Brad paced the hall with Kitty.
“I’ll never forgive myself for leaving him so much today, if there’s
anything I could have done to prevent this,” Kitty said accusingly.
“That’s silly, Kit! No sense in blaming yourself. You know how kids
are. They almost always come down sudden like that.”
“Do they?” She glanced hopefully at him through tear-dimmed eyes.
“Of course. I can remember how I used to play till I dropped, and in an
hour or so would be burning with fever.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _Billy Moaned and Tossed Restlessly_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“But suppose it’s diphtheria? They can die in a few hours of that.”
“Not in these times with all the new treatment. That knocks things out
in no time.”
They were at the farther end of the hall when Kitty saw Hazel Dawson go
into the room. “Oh, I hope they’ll let Hazel nurse him,” she said.
“Then I’ll be sure everything’s being done for him that possibly can be
done.”
“They probably will.”
“How long will it take for them to find out what it is?”
“Not long. Chief Carter will see to that.”
At that very moment a white-uniformed interne came out of the room,
followed by Mr. Carter. They hurried off toward the laboratory. The
door stood slightly ajar when Kitty and Brad came nearer. Kitty saw
Hazel inside and motioned to her.
“May I come in now?” she whispered.
“He’s already sleeping. Perhaps you’d better not till we find out what
it is.”
“Will it take long?”
“No, not with your father around to see that everything is speeded up.”
“Are you going to nurse him?”
“Yes, I’m glad to say. Your father asked for me.”
“I’m so thankful! Now I’ll know he has the best of care. Oh Hazel, I’ll
never forgive myself if—if anything—”
Kitty couldn’t go on, and Hazel put an arm around her waist. Then she
turned to Brad to say, “I think you’d better take her home. We’ll see
to everything here.”
“I couldn’t possibly go till I know what it is. Nobody can understand
how I feel. I was away from him practically all day. Maybe if I’d put
him to bed myself I would have touched him and found he had a fever.”
“Don’t be absurd, Kitty,” said Hazel almost severely. “You couldn’t
have prevented his picking up some germ. Stop blaming yourself for what
can’t be helped.”
“I know. You’re only trying to make me feel better about it,” said
Kitty, wiping her tears with a large handkerchief which Brad had thrust
into her hands.
“That’s right. Dry your tears. You know men don’t like to see a woman
cry,” Hazel reminded her.
Kitty smiled. “Brad’s been awful good—helping us out.”
“Keep it up a little longer, young man,” Hazel directed. “You and Kitty
can wait in the sun parlor until they bring back the report. Then I’ll
get Mr. Carter to look you up and let you know what the trouble is.”
Kitty was glad to obey these instructions. Brad found some pictorial
magazines and they sat on the couch, turning the pages, for there
seemed nothing they could say while they waited. Kitty saw little of
what was on those printed pages. Her ears were too alert for a familiar
step in the hall.
“How easy it is to take all the good things of life for granted until
something like this comes along,” she thought. Ambition had been
eternally prodding her to conquer new worlds, when within the four
walls of her own home there should have been happiness enough to fill
their three hearts to overflowing. She tried to tell Brad something of
what she was thinking.
“But your desire to help in Canteen work, or any war work, is no reason
why you should blame yourself for neglecting Billy,” Brad said as he
tried to make her see straight.
“I know—of course not.” She brushed her hand across her eyes and back
over her forehead.
“That’s something we’ve all got to do—every man and woman in the
country—or there won’t be any homes left for us to be happy in.”
“You’re so sensible. It’s such a comfort to have someone to talk
to—just to sit here with me!”
“Gosh! I haven’t done anything!”
Just then Kitty heard the long-expected footsteps in the hall and
jumped up. Fortunately they had the sun parlor to themselves. All other
visitors had long since gone home. Her father’s face told her at once
that the situation was better than they feared.
“A strep infection,” he said in answer to her eager question. “We’ll
soon knock that out with the sulfa drug.”
“What a relief! I think I would have died had it been anything worse.”
“That’s bad enough if not caught in time,” her father stated.
“How in the world do you suppose he got it?”
“There’s been a lot of it here at the hospital.”
“But I never bring Billy to the hospital.”
“He could have picked it up almost anywhere.”
Then with an appalling recollection Kitty saw herself and Billy in
their boat going past that hospital dump in the marshes. That was where
he had got the germ, she was positive. Subconsciously she had known it
from the very beginning. That’s why she had felt so stunned by Billy’s
sickness. Now that she honestly faced the results of her own
carelessness, she felt she couldn’t endure it.
Noting her pale face and the misery in her eyes, Mr. Carter said,
“Brad, please take her home for me.”
“I couldn’t leave till I know Billy’s going to be all right, Dad.”
“You can do absolutely nothing here, Kitty,” her father said almost
severely. “He’s in most competent hands. Hazel’s going to nurse him,
and I plan to stay on for the night. I have my own room I can use any
time. I’ll see that everything possible is done. It will be a relief to
me to know you’re home in bed.”
Kitty felt she could never sleep again, but said in a resigned tone,
“All right, Dad. I’ll go.”
Seeing her so crushed he put his arm around her shoulder and went with
her down the hall. “Go home and take a hot bath to calm your nerves,
and get right into bed. I’ll phone you at six in the morning.”
* * * * *
That night as Kitty tossed about, sleepless for several hours, she made
up her mind that if Billy recovered she would tell her father
everything that had happened these last weeks to stir her suspicions.
She blamed herself for her pride and conceit in hoping she, alone,
could find an answer to those problems that were continually stumping
the FBI.
She thought bitterly of what her psychology teacher had once said,
“We’re very complicated creatures, and how we sometimes hate to face
the truth.” And another time he had talked to their class about how
human beings compensate for losses and disappointments. Yes, that was
exactly what she was trying to do in making herself a private
secret-service agent. She imagined she could do something big enough in
uncovering some dastardly plot against her country. This would
compensate for her not being able to do more to help the war effort.
The fact that Billy had been her stumbling block all along, even though
she adored him, made her feel all the more miserable now that his
safety was involved.
It was late when her tired body and tortured mind succumbed to
weariness and she slept. She slept so heavily then she didn’t even
rouse for the anticipated phone call at six o’clock. Jane was in the
room when she opened her eyes, then sat up suddenly, ashamed that she
had overslept.
“Has Dad phoned?”
Jane’s kindly face told her that he had and that the news was good.
“Yas’m, sho did. Billy’s bettah, an’ yo’ Pah say you kin come see him.”
Kitty scarcely had patience to eat her breakfast, which Jane insisted
she must have before she left. Even with that delay she was at the
hospital in an hour after waking. It was good to see her father smiling
a welcome from the foot of the bed, and to see Billy drinking some milk
through a tube, while the day nurse held a glass near his pillow.
“Oh darling, you do look better,” she said eagerly.
“I’m all right, Kit. I like it at the hospital.”
“Kit’s going to stay with you while Daddy gets some sleep.” She turned
to her father and added, “You must go home and sleep some, Dad.” His
hollow eyes betrayed the fact that he had been up all night.
“I’ve had breakfast, but bed will be very welcome. If Billy’s very good
today maybe we’ll take him home tomorrow. That new bike will be waiting
if he takes his medicine well and gets strong in a hurry.”
“I’ll be a good boy, Dad,” Billy promised.
Kitty spent the day at the hospital, and didn’t go home until Hazel
came in on night duty. Her father had gone to his office in the early
afternoon, but he, also, was ready to go home as Kitty left. She was
very tired, but so relieved that Billy was getting well that nothing
else mattered.
As they walked home in the twilight she could still feel her father’s
depression. When they had gone a block in silence she slipped her hand
through his arm and asked, “What’s wrong, Dad? Billy’s going to be all
right, isn’t he?”
“Oh yes. Yes indeed! His throat has cleared up remarkably fast.”
“But you’re still worried about something.”
“I’m afraid I am, Kitten. It’s not a new worry by any means. Things are
rather messed up at the hospital in connection with my work.”
“What do you mean, Dad? I’ve felt for a long time that something was
wrong.”
“I haven’t wanted to worry you, but if you must know there’s a shortage
somewhere—a leak that I can’t locate.”
“Oh!”
“The inspector’s coming next week.” Her father’s tone was bitter. “I
wouldn’t want to follow Dawson to Santiago, or somewhere else equally
as remote.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A CONFESSION
Kitty waited until her father had eaten dinner before bringing up the
subject that had weighed on her mind since the previous evening. She
knew she would have no peace until she had made a clean breast of the
whole thing. When her father was in his big chair in the living room
she sank on the couch near by.
“Dad, how long does it take a germ—like a strep germ—to develop after
a person gets infected?” she asked.
“Two or three days, sometimes sooner. We still have a lot to learn
about such things.”
“Then it’s all my fault that Billy’s ill.”
“Your fault?” Mr. Carter dropped the paper he had just picked up.
“I thoughtlessly took him where there’re plenty of germs. I—I was so
intent on something I wanted to find out, I didn’t even think of the
danger.”
“What are you talking about, Kitty? It’s absurd blaming yourself for
his illness. You’ve taken excellent care of him ever since you came
from school.”
“But, Dad, we went out into the marshes where they dump the hospital
waste.”
“You—what?” Her father stared at her, shocked. Then she could see by
his expression that he was recalling their conversation about the
disposal of the hospital waste.
“That’s why I asked you where they dumped it. I went there Saturday
afternoon.”
“You and Billy alone?”
She nodded. “But I had a good reason for wanting to go, Dad, a very
good reason.”
He looked puzzled, but his tone was not unkind when he said, “I can’t
imagine any reason that would take a sensitive girl like you out to a
dump pile.”
“I know you think I’m crazy. But it’s a long story and I’ll have to
start at the beginning.”
“Well, sit back calmly and stop twisting that pillow.”
Kitty tossed the pillow to the other end of the couch and burst into
tears. “Oh Dad, I’ve been so miserable for the last twenty-four hours I
could die. It’s all because I’m too proud. I wanted to do something big
for my country—something spectacular. I’ve let it make me indifferent
to everything else.”
“You’re doing what you can, Kitten, in your Canteen work.”
“Yes, I love that, but I wanted to do even more. I thought I could
uncover the work of some saboteurs. I—I tried even to keep it all from
you, to do it all myself, that is Brad and I.”
“Kitty, calm yourself,” her father said almost severely. “You’re being
very incoherent. Tell me what all this is about.”
“I hardly know where to start to make you understand why I’ve been so
secret about it.”
“The place to start is at the beginning. I suppose all this has
happened since you came home from college.”
“Yes, of course. In fact the very day I decided to go into Canteen
work.” Then she told him of her experience in the launch when she had
introduced Hazel and Lieutenant Cary. “That was the first hint I had
that something was wrong somewhere. Brad was with me, and in on it from
the very beginning.”
“So you’ve been suspicious of Lieutenant Cary since then. Has anything
else occurred to justify such suspicions?” asked Mr. Carter, viewing
his daughter’s confession more seriously now.
“Oh, lots of things—that is with people also closely associated with
him.” Then she told about Punaro and her belief that he was connected
with the cannery fire, and later their coming unexpectedly upon him at
the dock. “It looked to both Brad and me that he was hiding a tightly
nailed box with the rubbish on the barge.”
“Um-m,” grunted her father significantly.
“Dad, that’s why I wanted to go out to the dump pile and see what the
situation was for myself.”
Her father had risen and was now pacing the floor. He turned toward her
sharply and said, “Surely you didn’t go ashore there?”
“Oh, no, we only rode by it.”
“Then Billy didn’t get the germ from that dump—or there was no greater
chance of his getting it there than anywhere else. But the foolish
thing, Kitty, was you two going alone. You might have taken Brad with
you as long as you had discussed these things with him.”
“He was down at the beach for the afternoon. I picked up more clues
down there, too, which made it seem certain supplies are going out from
our hospital to the German subs. One of the Coast Guard men told about
them finding Bayshore Bakery bread on one of those captured subs.”
“If that was all they’re getting I might not have so much to worry
about,” said her father.
Kitty glanced at him sharply. “What do you mean, Dad? You think they’re
getting more than that?”
“No doubt they are.”
Kitty knew he was keeping something from her. However, she was
determined now to tell him all. “Another strange thing happened
yesterday that may or may not be significant.”
“Yes. What was that?”
“It was odd, after seeing old Uncle Mose on Terrapin Island Sunday,
someone on the troop train yesterday asked me about him.” Kitty gave a
sprightly account of the veteran returned from the Pacific. “And by the
way I have that dollar and must take some tobacco to the old man.”
“And what connection does all this have with the clues you’re running
down?”
“Vera Parsons told me that the owner of Terrapin Island was near when I
was talking to that fellow. She said he actually glared at me when he
heard I’d been on the island. Of course it was all posted over with ‘No
trespassing’ signs, and maybe we shouldn’t have eaten our supper there.”
“We did no harm. Those signs generally apply to hunting, fishing and
fire-making.”
“But Dad, Brad and I are wondering if this Beeson isn’t in on the dirty
work.”
He paused in front of her, his face showing alert interest. “How do you
figure that out?”
“Uncle Mose told us Beeson comes here to the hospital for food scraps
for his hogs. Brad and I figure there’s obliged to be a middleman to
make the contact between the hospital and the spies from the subs.”
Chief Carter’s face was eager as he said, “Kitty, you may have picked
up a missing link!”
She jumped to her feet now, and stood facing her father. “Dad, you’ve
been keeping something from me, too!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _“You May Have Picked Up a Missing Link!”_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I’ll have to admit I have, Kitten. You had enough on your young
shoulders without being burdened with my problems.”
Suddenly apprehension pierced her heart. It was one thing to work for
the sheer thrill of trapping spies, but quite another to find her
father was really involved.
“Dad, what is it?” she asked. “Does all this in any way affect you? A
while back I thought it might and then—”
“I’m afraid it does, Kitty. But go on, I want to hear your reasons for
believing Beeson is involved.”