CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A NARROW ESCAPE
“You got time to cross yonder an’ hide in de marsh,” Uncle Mose told Kitty and Brad when they heard the sound of the approaching motorboat.
“Let’s get going,” said Kitty, picking up her oar. “You’d better hide your tobacco and new pipe, Uncle Mose.”
“Yas’m, sho will.” The old man’s sunken eyes turned toward the inlet. “You kin hear de motorboat a long time ’fore she come in sight.”
“I’m glad you told us what you did, Uncle Mose,” said Kitty. “Don’t you worry. Mr. Beeson will never buy this island.”
“T’ank de Lawd! You tell young Massa I keep de trus’ an’ look atter de place like he ask me to.”
Brad was impatient to be off, and Kitty bent her back to the oar as he pulled away from the little harbor. Glancing at Uncle Mose before they turned a point in the shore, she saw him waving his battered felt hat at them and pointing straight across the marsh.
Instead of turning north by the way they had come they headed for the tide-filled creeks that cut the marshy wastelands into jig-saw patterns. They could have used the motor for greater speed, but Kitty knew the noise would carry for quite a distance across the empty wastes. Not until they had gone almost a mile up one of the winding creeks did they pause behind the shelter of some tall marsh grass.
“Hope we don’t get stuck in here,” said Brad. “Tide’s so low.”
“But it’s already turned. That’s a help.” She rubbed her tired hands together a moment and said, “Uncle Mose gave us an earful, didn’t he?”
“I’ll say!”
“Looks as though that’s the final piece to complete the puzzle.”
“Maybe and maybe not, Kit. We’ve got to catch ’em with the goods before we can really bring conviction.”
“Sure is risky for that poor old negro. Beeson doesn’t look like the kind of man who would hesitate to put the old man out of the way if he interferes with his plans.”
“You’re right.”
“Maybe we should have brought him away with us just now.”
“Oh no, that would never do. Beeson would be sure you were responsible—after what happened at the troop train the other day.”
“I guess you’re right. That would make him cut off his traffic with the Germans till suspicion dies down.”
“Kit, it’s come to the point where we no longer have a right to keep all this to ourselves.”
“You mean the FBI should know?”
“Certainly. It’s not mere surmise now. What Uncle Mose told us bears out accurately the theories we’ve been forming.”
“You’re right, Brad.” Even though they had prided themselves on their discoveries so far, Kitty had to admit that the affair was now too dangerous for them to handle. She could never forgive herself if, through their bungling, Uncle Mose lost his life.
“But we’ve got to get out of here first,” said Brad. “It’s beginning to look as though we’re in for a real blow, Kit.”
“A real sou’easter.”
Suddenly Brad half rose and peered above the strip of marsh grass behind which they were hiding. “Listen, Kit, sounds like Beeson’s boat is coming right in here.”
“Good heavens! What’ll we do?”
She crawled over to the stern locker and hunted for the field glasses. As she adjusted them she stood in the boat and scanned the western horizon. Finally she concentrated her gaze on a section of the inlet near the pine bluff.
“No. He isn’t in the marshes. Even with the wind taking the sound from us, the bluff must be a sort of sounding board to throw it back.”
“We’ll have to be careful—wind’s blowing from us to him,” cautioned Brad.
She let Brad have the glasses and he watched while Beeson towed the barge to the dock. “Uncle Mose is already there to carry the food scraps up to the hogs,” he explained as he watched.
“Can you see anything that looks like supplies for the Germans?” she asked.
“Not at this distance.”
He handed her the glasses and she watched until Beeson went stomping up to the house in his knee boots.
Great masses of purple clouds boiled in the western sky, while the tall marsh grass lay almost level under the rushing wind.
“We’d better beat it for home!” exclaimed Kitty. “Looks to me as if this is turning to a hurricane.” On the Gulf coast she had often seen storms come up like this in a very short time.
“There was a hurricane reported south of here—guess we’re getting an edge of the gale,” said Brad.
They debated whether to return to the inlet with which they were familiar, but decided the safest course would be to follow the marshy creek, even thought it might take them longer to get home. Brad still had the little map which he had sketched in his billfold. They studied that, trying to figure out the most direct route back to Palmetto Island.
“This creek swings round mighty close to Mangrove Island,” Kitty said dubiously.
“That’s better than going too close to Terrapin Island.”
Acting upon their decision they picked up their oars again. They were now moving against the force of the rising tide and found progress slow. They made several elbow turns and eventually found themselves close enough to Mangrove Island to make a landing, if they had so desired.
“I’ve wanted to explore it ever since you boys told me about seeing the boat in the mangroves on the other side,” Kitty said.
“No time to explore now,” Brad stated rather shortly. “If I ever get you out of this saboteurs’ nest I’ll never bring you into the marshes again—till the war’s over.”
Kitty laughed. “I’m not afraid, Brad. What’s there to be afraid of now?”
Even as she spoke there came a pinging sound, piercing and sharp above the howl of the wind. Almost simultaneously Brad groaned and slapped his hand to his shoulder as he toppled backward into the bottom of the boat. The oar slipped from his limp fingers and bobbed off on the tide.
“Lie down, Kit! Lie down!” he ordered even as he fell.
“Brad, are you hurt?” she wailed.
With his right hand he seized her arm and pulled her to the bottom of the boat beside him. The hand was wet with blood from the wound in his shoulder.
“He got me all right. But keep low! Don’t lift your head above the gunwale.”
Two more shots came whistling across the boat.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” stated Brad desperately.
Even if they had two oars to use Kitty knew it would be suicide to sit up to row.
“I’ll start the motor,” she said.
On her stomach she wiggled toward the motor. At such a disadvantage she wondered if she could get the engine going. But she must! There was no other way for them to get away from that shower of lead.
“But you can’t see to steer,” said Brad. “We’ll go headlong into the marsh.”
“We’ve got to take a chance. I have a general idea of the channel beyond here—passed this way the other day when Billy and I came here.”
To Kitty’s infinite relief the starter responded to her touch. The sound of that motor was only an invitation to more shots. This time they were aimed low, evidently with the hope of puncturing the boat’s side and hitting them as they crouched below the gunwale. But the lead spattered harmlessly into the water.
“Brad, Are You Hurt?” Kitty Wailed
By holding the lower curve of the wheel, and watching the tree-lined shore, Kitty could steer, and give the motor as much speed as she dared. When they had gone several yards, and just after a fresh spatter of lead struck their stern, she took a chance on lifting her eyes high enough for a look ahead.
Three more shots trailed them, but fell short of the mark, and a few minutes later they felt that they must be out of range. By the smudge of smoke at their right Kitty knew they were now passing the dump pile, with open, safer water ahead. Not until then did she dare give the boat any real speed.
She glanced down and saw Brad’s face drawn and white at her feet. Blood had run from his coat to the bottom of the boat. Kitty rose from her crouching position and saw a sheltering arm of marshland ahead. When she rounded this so the boat was hidden from Mangrove Island she cut off her motor and bent over Brad. When she unbuttoned his coat she found his shirt saturated with blood.
“A little lower and it would have gone through your heart,” she said anxiously. “Wait, I’ll try to stop that blood.”
She was thankful her father always kept the launch prepared for emergencies. They never went out without field glasses, flashlights, a lantern, a jug of water, tins of food and a first-aid kit.
Her deft fingers cut away the bloody clothes. She cleaned the wound as best she could, then bound it tightly to check the blood.
“You seem to know how to do it,” he said gratefully.
“I took two first-aid courses at school, but haven’t had much chance to practice.”
“Hope you don’t have another chance like this any time soon,” he said ruefully.
With the blood checked Brad struggled to a sitting position, his left arm lying limp in his lap.
“You knew somebody was watching us before the shot came,” said Kitty with conviction, recalling his sudden anxiety to have her safely home.
He nodded. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to frighten you. I thought it might be somebody quite harmless.”
“Far from it!”
“Kit, I thought I saw the blue of a sailor’s uniform.”
“Oh, then it wasn’t Germans, hiding there till Beeson came back?”
“I may have been mistaken about the clothes, but anybody from the island could have seen us watching Beeson go ashore at his dock.”
“That’s so,” Kitty admitted. “No doubt they have field glasses, too.”
“It wasn’t likely to be anybody from the U-boats. They’d take too much risk coming ashore any time but at night.”
“A sailor’s uniform,” she repeated. “Could it have been Punaro?”
“It’s possible. Of course Cary wears blue, too.”
“But I thought you said Punaro always brought the stuff out here in the early morning?”
“You forget this is Saturday afternoon. He’s off, too,” Brad reminded her.
She realized then how ghastly white he had grown. His lips had a bluish look, and he was trembling slightly in the chill wind. She was afraid of shock from the loss of blood, and hurried back to her motor. She must take him to the hospital as speedily as possible.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A CALLER IN THE DARK
By the time Kitty was in sight of the hospital the storm had reached gale proportions, and even the inland, sheltered waterways were whipped into tumbling whitecaps.
“Shall I go straight to the unloading dock behind the hospital?” she asked.
“Against regulations. Nothing’s supposed to come ashore there but supplies.”
She was afraid Brad couldn’t walk to the hospital from any of the small landing docks farther east, but she decided he could wait in the boat while she went to their house for the car.
“It’ll probably be better to go ashore somewhere else anyhow,” she told him.
“Wish I didn’t have to go back to the hospital just now,” he said. “If it gets around that I was shot in the marshes, Lieutenant Cary will be sure to hear about it—may put a crimp in drawing a noose around the criminals’ necks.”
“Why didn’t I think of that before?” said Kitty. “I’ll take you to our house. Surely Dad will be back from town by the time we get there. He’ll know what’s best to do.”
“I hate to be so much bother, but that does seem the most sensible thing. You can phone Dr. Williams. He’s the closest friend I have among the doctors. He’ll take care of the wound and keep his mouth shut, too.”
“Sure. That’s just what we’ll do.”
“I don’t have to report for duty till Monday. Nobody will get curious about me till then.”
When Kitty turned the bend in the channel and rounded the point on which the hospital stood, she thought she had never faced such a howling gale. She glanced toward the island and saw that the hurricane flag was flying.
Brad ducked his head and clung to the seat. Kitty anchored herself to the wheel, and steered for the landing behind their cottage. Already lights were twinkling along shore, though enough twilight lingered for her to come in to the dock without too much uncertainty.
Never before had she attempted to make her moorings in such a choppy sea. The stormy wind had forced the rising tide up rapidly. She was glad of this for it would spare Brad a climb to the dock. She was afraid the force of the storm would pound the launch against the pilings, so she cut off their motor and with the remaining oar worked toward the lee side of the dock. It took all her skill to make any progress as she had to move straight into the teeth of the rushing wind that swept diagonally across the island. Brad was powerless to help her, for his one hand was needed to hold himself to the seat.
“Don’t try to help!” Kitty called to him, as he started to crawl forward. “I’ll make it. The least little strain will start that place bleeding again.”
In spite of her warning after Kitty got the boat close enough Brad seized their line and tossed it deftly over a hook on the dock. The rope creaked and the boat quivered at the sudden restriction.
“Can you make it up the ladder?” Kitty asked anxiously.
There were only three or four steps to climb, but even that would be a strain on Brad in his weakened condition.
“Maybe you’d better go ahead and give me a hand,” he was forced to admit. “Guess I’m no good.”
She hadn’t realized how weak he was until she tried to help him up that ladder. She had to pull him by his good arm every step of the way. When he reached the dock he collapsed at her feet. Desperately she glanced toward the village, hoping for help, but the storm had evidently driven everyone to shelter. A small boat battled the gale half way between them and the hospital, but the howling wind would drown her call for help.
She was afraid to leave him on the dock while she went for help. The gale might grow strong enough any minute to sweep him into the water. There was danger of opening the wound again if she tried to move him, but she had no choice. Carefully she lifted his head against her knees, locked her hands under his arms and dragged him down the dock to the shelter of a twisted oak that grew on the shell bank.
She was already wet from the mist and spray and now rain came in a sudden deluge. It mingled with the tears streaming down her cheeks as she ran the block and a half to her home. With a thankful prayer she saw that the lights were on. Jane, at least, must be there.
“Let me in!” she called, actually pounding the door with her fists.
Jane swung the door in almost at once. “Why, Miss Kitty, you looks like a scarecrow!”
“Is Dad here?”
“Yas’m. He sho is, an’ he just about on he haid cause you ain’t come home.”
Her father was pulling on his raincoat as he came out of his room.
“Why Kitty, what’s wrong? Why are you so late?”
“Dad, we couldn’t help it. Brad’s shot!”
“Shot?”
“From the marshes.”
“Where is he now?”
“I got him ashore here—but couldn’t bring him any farther.”
She Helped Him Across the Dock
“He’s not dead?”
“Oh, no! I mean I hope not. He must have fainted when I was helping him to the dock. He lost so much blood.”
“Which dock?”
“Ours—behind the house.”
“I’ll get the car. You’d better come, too, Jane. I don’t want Kitty to strain herself, helping me lift him.”
Billy was already in bed, so Mr. Carter closed the door softly. “He’ll be all right. We’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll drop you two off here before I take him on to the hospital.”
He hurried out to get the car and Kitty followed him saying, “But we don’t want to take him to the hospital. He doesn’t want them to know.”
“What are you talking about, my child? That’s the place for him.”
“Not under the circumstances, Dad.”
Kitty tumbled into the car beside him, and Jane got into the back, praying aloud excitedly. Mr. Carter started the motor and they raced out the drive.
“Please do as I say, Dad,” persisted Kitty. “Just this once, Dad. There’s no time to tell you everything, but we’ve learned things this afternoon that may put a stop to all this awful business.”
Mr. Carter made no reply for a moment, grimly intent upon his driving in the rain. Finally he said, “I’ve been a fool, Kitty, to let you go ahead and get into something like this.”
Kitty was too miserable over Brad to pay much attention to her father’s rebuke. “There, he’s under the oak yonder,” she directed, when they turned the corner and raced down the block.
They found Brad had recovered consciousness, and was sitting with his back propped against the tree trunk.
“So silly of me to check out,” he apologized when they approached him. “I figured you’d gone for the car.”
“Think you can get in?” asked Mr. Carter.
“Sure,” Brad tried to make light of his weakness.
But he was a dead weight on Mr. Carter as he helped him to his feet.
“Guess you’ve lost a lot of blood, old boy. Where did they hit you?”
“Just under my shoulder blade. Kitty bound it up, but I’d spilled plenty before she got a chance to do that.”
Kitty breathed easier when he was in the front seat beside her father. She and Jane sat in the back. Nothing more was said until Mr. Carter stopped the car in front of their house, instead of going into the drive.
“Jane, you get out and stay with Billy. Kitty, you can come on up to the hospital with us if you’d rather.”
There were tears in Kitty’s voice when she wailed, “But Dad, we don’t want them to know about this at the hospital!”
“This is no time to think of such things, Kitty. It’s quite evident Brad will need a blood transfusion. The hospital is the proper place for that.”
When Jane got out and her father drove on toward the hospital Kitty couldn’t keep the tears back. What a mess she had made of the whole business! If she had known Brad must go to the hospital it would have been so much easier to stop at the supply dock, regulations or no regulations. Now everybody at the hospital would know, anyhow, that he had been shot. How the talk would fly from mouth to mouth.
Even if Punaro wasn’t the guilty party he would learn about it. If he was really in league with Beeson he, in turn, would get the facts, and surmise that they had visited Terrapin Island again. In that event she feared for Uncle Mose’s safety. But after all, she thought finally, what did any of this matter compared with Brad’s welfare?
Her father had a stretcher brought down to take Brad to the emergency room. As Kitty followed into the hospital she said, “Dad, if Brad’s blood is type one I’ll be glad to give him blood for a transfusion.”
Her father turned and flashed her a smile. “Thanks, Kitten. But I think we have a generous supply of all types here. I’ll go on to the emergency room and see what his condition is.”
“Oh, Dad, I don’t think I can stand it if Brad dies. It’s all my fault. I was the one who suggested going out there today.”
“Stop blaming yourself, my child, for everything that goes wrong!”
He took a key from his pocket. “Here’s the key to my office. Wait up there where it’s quiet. I’ll come up later and tell you how Brad is—and I want to hear all about what happened.”
Kitty was glad he had thought of this, for her wet clothes and troubled face would certainly invite questions from any friends who might see her. She hurried out to the wing and up the steps to the second floor, instead of taking the elevator.
She had never been in the administrative wing at night when everyone was off duty. There was light in only one office as she went down the short hall on the upper floor. Strangely enough she felt more nervous there than she had in the lonely marshes before the shooting. She was tempted to turn back and go to Hazel’s room, but she knew that would invite questions and call for explanations, for which she was in no mood at the moment. In her father’s office she could be quiet to calm herself after so much excitement and strain.
She unlocked the door and touched the light button. She crossed to her father’s desk chair and sat down a moment. She felt she couldn’t live through this interval while waiting to hear about Brad. To divert her mind she reached for a book in a rack at the back of the desk. It proved to be a medical tome, whose language seemed dry as dust to her excited mind.
In the basket at the right of the desk were some addressed envelopes and a stack of orders that had been made up and signed by her father, but had not yet been mailed. Her eyes ran down the list of drugs and supplies that had been ordered.
While sitting there she suddenly shivered, and realized her clothes were wet through. Noticing one of her father’s coats hanging on a rack in the corner, she put it on, and went to the big armchair near the window. She took off her wet shoes and socks and tucked her feet under her woollen skirt until they were warm.
The chair faced the window and as she sat there she recalled that her father had pointed out the location of Mangrove Island from that very window. How long ago it seemed! She wondered if Punaro, or whoever had shot at them, was still out there.
Wind shook the window as it came howling in from the sea. The rain had stopped, however, and Kitty wondered if she could see anything across the marshes at night. She padded across the office on bare feet and switched off the light. While her eyes became accustomed to the darkness she sat on the window ledge peering out, wondering if the Nazi spies would dare come ashore in such a storm to pick up their loot. Would anyone be so foolhardy?
The night was impenetrably black under lowering clouds. She could see nothing except the glow at the Marine Base to the east, and a few house lights in the settlement around the hospital.
Then anxiety for Brad swept over her again. There was no use trying to think of anything else. Unhappily she sank back into the leather chair. She pulled her father’s coat closer about her, sat on her feet again and was soon comfortably warm. The wind came in from the sea like giant breakers rolling up a beach. It crashed against the big building, then there would be a momentary lull before the next gust came. To Kitty’s alarm, now that she paused to listen, each blast seemed worse than the one that had just struck. As soon as she heard from Brad they would go back to the cottage for Billy and Jane. She had been through too many storms on the Gulf coast to feel safe in a small house on a night like this.
Under the circumstances it didn’t seem possible she could have dozed, but Kitty came to herself with a start at the sound of a key in the door. Instantly she was on the alert. Her father had given her his key. If it were he, she thought, he would have rapped and called to her to let him in. Cautiously she crouched deeper in the leather chair.
As the door swung inward noiselessly she saw by the light from the hall a tall familiar form step into the room. He closed the door softly, then switching on a flash he moved quickly toward the desk. As the flashlight circled about the desk top for a moment it tilted so that reflected illumination struck the sneak’s face. Her surmise had been correct; it was Lieutenant Cary.
In the dark corner the terrified girl watched breathlessly. Her eyes were just above the chair back, as Cary examined the order blanks in the large basket on the desk. Apparently finding what he wanted, he took up the sheaf of papers and buttoned them under his coat.
Kitty was almost beside herself with terror. So it was really Cary who did the underhand business that got both the Chief Pharmacist’s Mates into trouble. She couldn’t let him get away with it. But what in the world could she do in her defenseless position?
Lieutenant Cary was almost at the door when, without any premeditation, Kitty found herself saying in the fiercest tone she could command, “Don’t move another step, Lieutenant Cary, or I’ll shoot!”
“Don’t Move or I’ll Shoot!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TRAPPED
The instant Kitty made that threat she was appalled at her daring. Lieutenant Cary might have a pistol and fire in her direction in the darkness. Terrified she crouched in the chair. Cary didn’t move or speak for what seemed an eternity. Then she heard an almost imperceptible rattle of paper. He must be trying to slide those orders from under his coat, to remove the evidence of his guilt.
“Leave those papers under your coat!” she ordered.
The paper rattling ceased. Then suddenly she caught the sound of footsteps in the hall. It would do no good for her to scream and call for help. Anyone passing down the hall was not likely to have a key that would fit this door. She couldn’t forget that Cary might have a gun. But would he dare use it with someone in hearing?
Kitty decided this was the best moment for action. Her bare feet made no sound as she glided across the floor. If she could only reach the door while someone else was near she might have a chance. Even after having been in darkness for quite a while her dilated eyes could distinguish little in the room. No doubt their surroundings were still more veiled to Cary.
She had only reached the back of the desk when she heard a key slip into the door lock. Relief flooded over her in a great wave, only to be followed by stark terror at what Cary might do if her father came in and found him here.
The door swung in and the light flashed up. Almost at the same moment Cary hurled himself at Chief Carter. The impact was so completely unexpected that Carter was thrown back against the partly open door, and it closed with a bang.
“So, it’s you, Cary!” exclaimed Mr. Carter, even as he went down.
Kitty seized Cary’s coat as he made a lunge at her father. A moment later she realized that someone, who had been coming here with her father, had been shut out by the banging door. He was now pounding it impatiently. Kitty sprang to open it, and a blue-uniformed officer, whom she had never seen before, rushed to her father’s aid. Fortunately he was armed, and a minute later had backed Cary into a corner. The order sheets from Chief Carter’s desk had slipped from under the physician’s coat and were scattered over the floor.
Her father got to his feet and faced the officer. “Well, Captain Rogers, this is a bit of luck!”
The Captain laughed shortly, without shifting his gaze from Cary. “We scarcely dared hope to catch him in the act.”
“I expect we’ll have to give credit for the catching to my daughter,” replied Chief Carter, glancing proudly at Kitty.
“How did you manage it, young lady?” asked the severe-looking Captain.
Kitty thought how terrified she would be to face him at a trial. He had the look of a man whose dealings with law-breakers had soured him on the world.
“I must confess I didn’t do any managing,” Kitty admitted ruefully. “I was sitting here waiting for Dad when in came Lieutenant Cary.”
“Waiting in the dark?” her father asked.
“I turned off the light to watch the storm—see what I could see outside,” Kitty floundered.
“So—he didn’t realize anyone was in here?” asked the officer.
Kitty’s excited breath caught in her throat a moment before she could explain, “He went straight to Dad’s desk with a flashlight, and picked up those order sheets.” She pointed to the papers strewn over the floor. “He stuffed them under his coat.”
“We must have come just as he did that,” surmised her father.
“No! It seemed an eternity. I told him not to move or I’d shoot.”
“But Kitty, you had no gun!” exclaimed her father. “Why do you take such foolhardy chances, my child?”
“Then you came! I was going to try to get out the door while someone was passing. I didn’t dare hope it was you.”
Though Captain Rogers hadn’t taken his eyes off Cary for a moment, Kitty saw the shadow of a smile twitch around the straight lines of his mouth. Then he spoke suddenly, “Mr. Carter, please phone Minger to come up with some handcuffs. Our Lieutenant here looks like a volcano that may erupt at any moment. No doubt it’s bitter for him to know he has been caught by this alert young lady.”
Cary, at bay in the corner, seemed turned to stone. His baleful glances had swept from one to the other as they spoke, but otherwise not a muscle of his face changed to betray his real feelings. No doubt the Nazis had trained him so well, that to die for the Fuehrer, in an attempt to serve him, was a coveted sacrifice.
The Petty Officer with the handcuffs came up in an amazingly short time, Kitty thought. He, too, was a stranger to her. When the irons had been snapped over the physician’s wrists Captain Rogers said, “Take him away, Minger. I’ll join you later.”
Lieutenant Cary’s head was held high as he walked out. His only act of defiance was to step deliberately on the scattered order blanks.
Kitty could scarcely wait for the door to close before she asked, “Oh, Dad, tell me about Brad. Is he going to be all right?”
“We hope so, Kitten,” her father replied gently. “The wound isn’t so bad. The bullet was extracted without too much trouble, and no bones were shattered.”
“He lost so much blood before I could do anything for him,” she said with regret.
“His strength will come back as soon as he has a transfusion.”
“Oh, Dad, it’s all been so awful!” wailed Kitty. Suddenly she threw her arms over his shoulders and burst into tears.
Her father held her to him a moment consolingly. “This last experience was a little too much, eh, Kitten?”
“I just knew he was going to kill you the minute you opened that door!”
“Well, he didn’t! Let’s hope the worst is over now.” Mr. Carter went toward a cabinet in the corner. “I’m going to fix you a small dose of medicine to calm your nerves.”
“Oh, I’ll be all right in a moment.”
“No, you’d better take this,” her father insisted. “You’ll need it to fortify you. We still have much to talk about. Captain Rogers may want to ask you some questions.”
“Why? Is he—”
“Yes. He’s the man I sent for when you told me all you had uncovered the other day.”
Kitty felt rather stunned at this information, yet relieved, too. She would be glad to get the whole business off her mind, and all this information into responsible hands.
Captain Rogers had gathered the scattered papers and was examining them while Kitty drank the medicine and let her father lead her again to the big armchair. He placed two other chairs close, then found an old sweater and wrapped it around his daughter’s bare feet.
“You mustn’t get chilled after such a trying day,” he said.
Then he joined Captain Rogers at his desk and they stood conferring in low tones for a few minutes. Gradually Kitty began to feel relaxed, and infinitely relieved that the suspense of these last weeks had at last reached a climax. She was now impatient to talk over everything with her father and his superior officer. There was much she wanted to know, too.
“Feeling better?” asked her father, coming back and standing by her chair. He took the damp kerchief from her head, and ran his fingers through her tumbled curls.
“Oh, much!”
“Well, suppose you tell us what happened this afternoon when you and Brad went out to Terrapin Island.”
Captain Rogers came over and sat astride a straight chair, his arms folded over the back as he faced her. This informality instantly put Kitty at her ease, while she gave a detailed account of her afternoon up to the time she had brought Brad home.
“Young lady, you have shown remarkable keenness in handling this situation,” said the Captain.
Kitty flushed. “Oh, no. I’ve made lots of mistakes. You don’t know.”
“Oh, yes, I do,” he retorted. “Your father has told me everything up to date. However, I must admit you made one mistake in the very beginning.”
She met his piercing brown eyes squarely. “I know,” she nodded. “I should have reported my very first suspicions to the FBI.”
“Exactly! No sensitive young lady should attempt to deal with Nazi or Jap saboteurs.”
“But I was afraid to tell anyone until they had been maneuvered into a position where they could really be caught.”
Captain Rogers laughed unexpectedly. “She doesn’t have a very high regard for the secret investigators of her country, eh, Carter?”
“Oh, I don’t mean it that way!” Kitty hastened to apologize. “But you see from the very beginning I—I was afraid that somehow this office—Dad’s office—was involved. One doesn’t run to the FBI about things where one’s father may be concerned.”
Captain Rogers glanced significantly at the Chief Pharmacist’s Mate. “Well, Carter, I suppose that puts a stop to my scolding.” He suddenly grew serious again as he turned to Kitty to say, “Young lady, if you had known what perfect confidence we have in this dad of yours you would have had no fears. When we sent him here we knew he was the one man who could stop the dirty business going on—if anyone could.”
It was Chief Carter’s turn to look surprised. “But I asked to be sent here!” he exclaimed.
Captain Rogers laughed. “You were only one step ahead of us. We had planned to ask you to take this post in hopes of clearing up the trouble.”
“Then you knew the fault was not in this office?”
“Certainly.”
“But you dumped Chief Dawson down in Santiago.”
“That was only a blind to throw the guilty parties off the track until we could pin the goods on them. Dawson understands all that, but is pledged to secrecy.”
“Well, for goodness sake!” burst forth Kitty. “If I’d had any idea of all that I would have told everything long ago.”
“If several people had had an idea of all this we might never have sprung this trap,” explained Captain Rogers.
“You speak as if it were really sprung,” said Kitty eagerly.
“It is—practically.”
“It seems rather certain that Punaro is responsible for young Brad Mason’s wound. He was away from the hospital all afternoon. I’ll order his arrest shortly. As for Beeson, he’s practically a prisoner on that island until this blow is over. We’ll be prepared to handle him as soon as we can get out there.”
“You won’t let anything happen to poor Uncle Mose?”
“We’ll do our best. The old darky is certainly entitled to his reward, too, in opening your eyes to so much.”
“But there are others. Brad thinks one of the ward attendants may be helping, too.”
“Oh, yes. They figure they have a perfect set-up,” said Captain Rogers. “First they put the incinerator out of order to make an opening for traffic into the marshes. Lieutenant Cary, with the assistance of your father’s stenographer—”
“Dad’s stenographer?” exclaimed Kitty, completely shocked.
“I was just as surprised as you, Kitten, when that amazing fact dawned on me,” explained Mr. Carter. “Miss Dales seemed such a quiet, clinging vine sort I couldn’t feature her daring to mix in anything like this.”
“Why, Dad, I can’t believe it! She acted as though she would do anything in the world for you.”
“She had been Dawson’s secretary, so I thought surely she was all right.”
“We were rather relieved you kept her on,” put in Rogers. “We had our suspicions of her all along. Any change might have put them too much on the alert.”
“If you hadn’t given me a hint about her, Captain Rogers,” said Carter, “I might not have thought of setting this trap tonight. We finished up these order sheets just before I left the office and I told her to mail them.”
“Instead she left them where Cary could get them tonight—as she has done numberless times before, so he could add his order for medicine for the German subs, above your signature.”
“Exactly!” said Mr. Carter.
“So that’s why there’s been so much suspicion about the orders that go in,” said Kitty. “But how has Lieutenant Cary been getting hold of the extra supplies when they come back?”
“The shipments are carried to Cary’s office. That’s in the normal routine. It is a very simple matter for him to take out the extra things he has ordered. Punaro, in collecting rubbish, places the supplies intended for German subs under the trash in his dump cart, and later hides it aboard the rubbish barge.”
“And Beeson?” asked Kitty. “You really think he’s the middleman?”
“No doubt of that,” replied Captain Rogers. “He probably carts off quite a bit of fresh food with him when he comes for scraps for his hogs.”
“That’s just what we figured,” said Kitty. “And I suppose Hazel Dawson was right about Lieutenant Cary playing chess with Krome to keep him occupied while Punaro gets away with the dirty work in the galley?”
“No doubt that’s been his program.”
While they had been talking, the fury of the wind had increased. Mr. Carter kept glancing uneasily toward the rattling windows.
“Captain, if you’ll excuse me I think I’d better go back to our bungalow and bring my little boy and his nurse here. This wind is reaching an alarming force.”
“Yes, yes, of course! They say it’s likely to reach hurricane proportions by morning.”
Mr. Carter got up quickly. “I’m afraid it’s going to be ahead of schedule. Our small cottage is no place to spend the night.”
Kitty threw aside the old sweater and jumped to her feet, frightened for Billy.
“No, dear, you’d better not come with me. No use for you to get wet again,” said her father. “You’ve been through enough for one day. Hazel is on night duty. You can get some sleep in her room.”
“Yes, young lady, you mustn’t take any more chances. We may need you here in the morning anyhow to answer further questions.”
“I’ll stop by and tell Hazel you’re going to her room,” said her father when they started out. “I’ll arrange for Billy and Jane somehow here. Restrictions will be let down for such an emergency. So you just put everything out of your mind and get some sleep.”