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.”
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.”
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!”
“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.”
“For one thing he leased that island after we went into the war. That certainly could have been done with an ulterior motive. Second, he moved Uncle Mose out of his cabin up to the other end of the island. Uncle Mose used to live in sight of the hospital dump pile. Also he has a look-out in the pine thicket.”
“A look-out?”
“Brad climbed the pine after we got Billy down Sunday. It’s wired to make climbing easy. There’s a seat at the top with a marvelous view of the entire marshes and out to sea.”
“But you didn’t mention all this Sunday.”
“We thought right away it was connected with the whole dirty business. Hazel was along, so we decided to say nothing until we could figure things out better.”
“Is that all?”
“We figured that a small radio could be carried up on Beeson’s back, so he could direct action from his look-out. He could watch people coming from any direction, and warn small boats coming in from the subs. Seemed like a perfect set-up.”
Her father looked at her a moment and a slow smile spread over his face, in spite of the anxiety still in his eyes. “Kitten, you show remarkable talent for becoming a first-class detective.”
She pursed her lips. “Too nerve-racking, Dad.”
“Is that all you’ve picked up about Beeson?”
“Beth Gilcrist, a Canteen worker over in Bayport, who meets all the troop trains, told me Beeson meets most of them, too.”
“Hm-m, so he does, eh? He seems to have no scarcity of gas for these trips back and forth.”
Mr. Carter sat down on the couch, and stared into space, as he thought over what she had told him.
“And another thing. Brad found out from the man who looks after the incinerator that repair parts have come for it twice, and were not what he ordered.”
“Hm-m, looks like somebody at the factory may be cooperating in keeping it out of order,” Mr. Carter surmised.
“That’s exactly what Brad and I figured out. That’s why we feel so certain the barge goes into the marshes for more reasons than to haul off garbage.”
Mr. Carter made no reply to this but just sat staring ahead of him. Kitty recalled what he had said as they were coming home that evening. The inspector was coming down and there was a shortage in his department. She had thought when he mentioned it that he meant a financial shortage. Now an appalling possibility entered her mind.
“Dad, could your shortage have anything to do with all this?”
“Definitely it could, Kitty. The amazing things you have just told me may help me clear up a very embarrassing situation.”
Kitty recalled that he had said once that there were some things he couldn’t talk about even to his own daughter, but she now ventured to ask, “Can’t you tell me about it now, Dad?”
“I’m going to,” he retorted in a tone that implied his desperation. “But this is for you alone, Kitty. Not even Brad is to know.”
Her eyes widened. “But you think he is trustworthy, don’t you?”
“Of course—absolutely! Nevertheless this is to go no further.”
“Certainly. If that’s the way you want it.”
“As you have probably guessed Willard Dawson lost out here for the very shortage I am now facing.”
“But I’m sure he was not to blame either. Who could look at his fine face and believe him capable of—of anything dishonest? He simply couldn’t be a traitor any more than you, Dad!”
“Of course we feel certain of that. That’s why I asked to be sent here. I’ve been in hopes of clearing up the situation.”
“Hazel came here for the same reason, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did. But so far—that is until you told me all this tonight I’ve run into nothing but snags.”
“Just what did you mean when you said there was a shortage?”
“All medical supplies must pass through my hands. I have to O.K. all orders. I have been most careful in making those orders—yet at the end of each month the sum total of materials used far exceeds the normal use of a hospital our size.”
“You mean medicines, bandages and things like that, Dad?”
“All expendable supplies used in the hospital—medical supplies, of course.”
“Those are the kind of things they’d be badly in need of on a German sub?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Do you suppose those sneaks are getting some of the stuff out of the hospital along with the food?”
“In fact, Kitty, the whole set-up may be for the purpose of getting our medical supplies instead of food. Almost anyone can get hold of food to let the enemy have, but the drug business is quite a different thing.”
Kitty felt the gooseflesh prickle along her spine.
“Oh, Dad, suppose I hadn’t paid any attention to all those queer things!”
“Don’t be too complacent about it all, Kitty. We haven’t caught the saboteurs yet, nor pinned anything on anybody.”
They brought Billy home from the hospital the next day. Like most husky youngsters he was soon playing around the house, and by the end of the week seemed none the worse for his experience.
“I’m afraid you have a somber rival in your son,” Kitty said one evening to her father.
“How’s that?” asked Mr. Carter, forcing himself out of his preoccupation.
“He has quite a crush on Hazel—talks of her constantly.”
Her father laughed in a self-conscious manner. “Oh, he has, eh?”
“He wants me to invite her to supper again and let him sit up late.”
Mr. Carter laughed. “You must do that, Kitten. But for Hazel’s watchful care Billy might not have recovered so quickly.”
“I’m sure of that.”
“And by the way, my dear, I’ve talked with Hazel about what you told me the other night.”
“Oh, did you?”
“She told me about the chess playing—Lieutenant Cary hobnobbing with Krome, Punaro and men from the galley.”
“When I saw him playing with Punaro I thought they must be two of a kind. I was already suspicious of them both. But Krome seems a good-natured sort. Somehow I hate to think he may be in on the dirty work.”
“Hazel doesn’t think he is—quite the contrary. And it wouldn’t be very likely. A man who’s been in the service ten or twelve years.”
“Did Hazel tell you why she’s been learning to play chess? I was very curious but didn’t dare ask.”
To Kitty’s surprise her father laughed heartily. “Hazel’s keen, and certainly has done a grand job as detective since she’s been here, but I doubt if she’ll make a go of the chess racket.”
“What do you mean?”
“She has a theory that Lieutenant Cary engages Krome in a chess game every time Punaro wants to get away with something in the galley.”
Something clicked in Kitty’s mind. “And there’s every reason to believe she’s right!”
“Huh, so you’re backing her up in the far-fetched idea!”
“Not far-fetched at all, and I’ll tell you why. The other night when Brad and I ran into Punaro down at the dock, we told him we were looking for Chief Krome. Right away he said, ‘He’s upstairs in the recreation room, playing chess with Dr. Cary.’ Note he said Dr. Cary, not Lieutenant.”
There was a slightly quizzical expression on Chief Carter’s face as he asked, “Well, is that significant?”
“Very. A man who had known Cary before he went into the service would call him doctor under excitement, and Punaro was not only excited, but furious at us.”
“Kitten, I become more certain every day that you should give up your Canteen work and join the FBI.”
“No, indeed! I have more pleasant ambitions for service to my country,” she retorted.
“So Punaro knew just where his Chief was the other night?”
“Just like that!” said Kitty, snapping her fingers. “It certainly looks as though Hazel’s got the right idea—that Lieutenant Cary keeps Krome occupied while Punaro has a free hand below.”
“Does sound plausible,” her father conceded.
“But you haven’t told me Hazel’s idea in learning to play chess herself.”
“Oh, I think she hopes to engage Cary sometimes in a chess game, when he would prefer to have Krome as a partner.”
Kitty laughed. “She thinks then that Krome may go below and find Punaro at his dirty work.”
“She said if that could happen it would be worth the discomfort of sitting opposite Cary for a game of chess.”
On Friday evening over a cup of coffee and a doughnut at the Snack Bar Kitty and Brad made plans to go to Terrapin Island the following afternoon, as Brad would have the afternoon off.
When Kitty went to town Saturday morning she spent the dollar the veteran had given her for smoking tobacco, and bought a new pipe as her own gift to Uncle Mose. This time she left Billy in good hands, for her father was taking Hazel into Bayport to a picture, and Billy was to go with them. So Kitty started off with Brad in their launch early in the afternoon with a free mind. With patriotic zeal they put their hands to the oars, instead of using the gasoline in the tank.
“Kit, I’ve been doing a little spying since we last had a chance to talk,” Brad told her.
“Hope you picked up something valuable.”
“I’ve been watching the barge movements.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve wondered if that could be done.”
“Punaro takes the stuff off to the dump every second morning. He uses a fast little motor boat for towing, which ought to make the haul in about an hour over to the dump and another hour back.”
“Is that his schedule?”
“Oh, no! He leaves at dawn and barely gets back to the hospital in time for chow at noon. Last time I had a day off I made it my business to watch his movements.”
“Does anybody go with him?”
“No. It’s really a one-man job, which suits his purpose very well. I figure Punaro has at least two hours leeway to contact his accomplices.”
They rowed past the hospital and soon turned south through the marsh-bordered inlet. The water was rather choppy and there were ragged, wind-swept clouds overhead, but neither of them were afraid of a little rain.
They were almost in sight of the pines on Terrapin Island when Kitty said, “There’s probably someone else upstairs in the hospital who’s involved in all this—someone besides Cary and Punaro.”
“What makes you think that?”
She had to be careful not to reveal anything her father had told her. But she thought Brad might be in a position to pick up information her father couldn’t get.
“If Punaro is actually supplying the subs with fresh food, doesn’t it seem possible they might take other things, too—medical supplies, for instance?”
“You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.”
Brad’s pull on the oars quickened as his thoughts raced ahead with this new idea.
“Slow up!” exclaimed Kitty, when she was out of breath trying to keep in rhythm. “This is no marathon, you know.”
Brad suddenly drew in his oar and turned to face her. She was glad enough to drift for a few minutes and rest.
“Kitty, now that you mention that fact I recall seeing Punaro talking several times with Petty Officer Brinson.”
“Brinson?”
“One of the ward attendants. I thought it was only about clearing the trash from the wards. But I bet Brinson could get away with plenty if he had a mind to.”
“I’m glad you told me about him, Brad. I haven’t had a chance to tell you I talked to Dad about all this.”
“You did?”
Kitty nodded. “I was so unhappy about it all when Billy got sick. I felt that somehow I was to blame, so I just told Dad everything.”
“What did he think?”
“Plenty!”
“I mean what does he think we ought to do with all this information we’ve been picking up?”
“He didn’t say. You know a man in his position can’t say much, even to his daughter.”
“That’s true, of course.”
“The inspector’s coming down soon, he said. I have a feeling he plans to take it up with him.” Kitty decided she had better change the subject, for fear it might slip out that her father was dangerously involved.
Brad Suddenly Turned to Kitty
The tide had carried them in closer to Terrapin Island while they talked. As Kitty saw the beautiful pine-clad bluff rising out of the surrounding green marshes she said, “Wouldn’t that make a grand place for a summer home?”
“I’ll say. And if the old Hindu your father told us about was right, those pines ought to have enough vitality to make us immortal.”
Kitty laughed and picked up her oar. “We’d better go on and see Uncle Mose, or this storm’s going to catch us before we get home.”
They didn’t stop at their former landing place, but rowed on along the inlet flowing east of the island. It was indeed a lonely spot. They now had a good view of Mangrove Island beyond a mile strip of marshy flats, which were interlaced with tidewater creeks. A couple of cranes stood knee-deep in water, but took flight at the sound of approaching oars, their long legs trailing behind them like streamers. A line of pelicans moved out toward sea, their wings alternately flapping and poised, as they followed the impulses of their leader.
“Don’t you love it here?” exclaimed Kitty.
“I’ll say. It’s really God’s country.”
They passed the spot where they had found Uncle Mose fishing, and saw his log cabin far back among the trees.
“What’ll we do if Beeson won’t let us see Uncle Mose?” asked Kitty a little nervously. “The old negro told us his new house is right back of Beeson’s place.”
“Surely he wouldn’t be so rude as to prevent us seeing the old darky.”
“You never can tell. Those ‘No trespassing’ signs may apply to callers also.”
A half mile farther on they came in sight of the Tradds’ old summer home. No doubt it had once been a fine residence, but even from the water they could see that its tabby walls were crumbling, and the paint had long since worn off the columned porch. Though the grounds were neglected and weed-grown, old azaleas, in full bloom, made gorgeous splashes of color. Wisteria vines had been left to run riotously over several pines, and the lavender blossoms were now hanging far up the brown trunks.
“Seems a shame for a man like Beeson to have such a heavenly spot,” said Kitty, when they shipped their oars, and Brad made the boat fast to a rickety dock in front of the house.
The tide had just begun to rise, so that their boat was eight or ten feet below the level of the dock. There was a ladder, however, by which they could go up. Brad had just given Kitty a hand to help her up when there came a furious baying of hounds from the direction of the house. A moment later they saw three vicious-looking dogs making for the dock.
“We can’t take a chance on them!” exclaimed Brad, realizing at once that this was how Beeson kept intruders away from his house.
Kitty tumbled back into the boat, while Brad released their line, so they could push off. He was not a moment too soon, for the dogs dashed along the dock and hung over the edge, their fierce jaws dripping as they barked furiously.
“What a reception!” exclaimed Kitty. “It really looks as though Uncle Mose won’t get his smoking tobacco today.”
“No launch tied up here. I suppose Beeson is away, and this is the guard he has set.”
“Would an honest man be so careful that nobody comes prowling around?”
“I doubt it.”
“Sally and Lana Bright have lived in this low country all their lives. They say the doors of their country house are never locked.”
“Those who do the most skulduggery are likely to be very suspicious of other people.”
Their boat was carried off toward a shelving beach by the current. Noting this the dogs left their high perch on the dock and ran around to head them off from landing anywhere else.
“Well trained, aren’t they?” Brad commented.
“Sure looks like it.”
“I suppose we can turn around and go home the way we came,” Brad said ruefully.
“I hate to be checkmated like this,” Kitty said in disgust.
She reached for her oar when suddenly Brad exclaimed, “Wait! There comes somebody.”
Kitty glanced in the direction he pointed. “Why, it’s Uncle Mose himself!”
The old man came hobbling down the weed-grown path. When he was in hearing distance Kitty called out, “Hi, Uncle Mose! It’s your friends. Call off the dogs.”
Uncle Mose came to the water’s edge and peered at them with dimming eyes before he said, turning to the dogs, “Shut up, you hounds! Quit dat racket! Don’ you know quality folks when you sees ’em?”
He finally had to get a stick to send the hounds slinking back toward the house. Brad pushed their boat closer to the shelving shore where the old man stood.
“After that reception I guess we’d better stay in the boat,” suggested Brad.
“I have good news for you, Uncle Mose,” Kitty said when they were close enough to speak without yelling.
“Yassum. I sho be pleased to hear it.”
“I got young Tradd’s address.” Then Kitty told him of meeting Tradd’s buddy on the troop train. “He gave me a dollar to buy you some tobacco so I brought it along.”
She stood in the prow to offer the gift while Uncle Mose waded a few feet into the water.
“And here’s a pipe I brought you, too,” added Kitty.
The weathered old face crinkled into a smile. “I sho proud o’ dis, Missie. Hit moighty thoughty o’ you to come way out here to brung it to me.” He crammed the gifts into his coat pockets.
“But I promised to write a letter for you, too. If you’ll tell me what you want me to say I’ll write to Mr. Tradd.”
“Oh, Missie, would you do dat fer sho?”
“Of course.”
“We ain’t got much time, Missie. Mah boss due back here pretty soon now. He done tole me I ain’t to pass no words wid y’all if you come back here again.”
Kitty glanced uneasily north along the inlet, but it was empty in the slanting sunlight that had broken through ragged clouds.
“So he warned you, eh? He was down at the station the day that boy gave me the money for your tobacco.”
“So dat how he know you’s gwine come again. I don’t hafter mind whut he say. I ain’t he nigger. I’ll be a Tradd nigger till I die, an’ I ain’t gwine set here an’ see him bring disgrace on dis island.”
“What do you mean, Uncle Mose?”
The old man came closer, almost knee deep in water now. His gnarled brown hands gripped the side of the boat as he said, “I ain’t able to row no boat crost to de mainland where us got ole fr’en’s, so I ain’t hab no one to trus’ ’bout whut gwine on round here till y’all come.”
“Then I’m very glad we came,” said Kitty encouragingly.
“I’s been libin’ on dis earth nigh on to a hunnert year, an’ I’se larn to know people you can trus’ at fust sight. Y’all sho belongst to dat class.”
“Thank you, Uncle Mose. We’ll try to live up to your good opinion of us.” Kitty saw it was useless to try to hurry him, though she was terrified for fear Beeson would come and catch them here.
“What was it you want her to write?” asked Brad, not quite so patient as Kitty.
“Suh, I sees you’s a sailor an’ defender o’ our country like mah young Massa. You wear de same color uniform, too, an’ I knows you’s to be trusted.”
“I hope so, Uncle.”
“An’ you knows as well as I does dat it ain’t right fer no white man in dese times to be hobnobbin’ wid furriners. Dis war we’s fightin’ is wid furriners, ain’t it?”
“It sure is, Uncle Mose,” replied Brad. “But what white man is hobnobbing with foreigners?”
“Mr. Beeson. Dey comes here right often at night—an’ always goes away wid boxes an’ bundles.”
Kitty and Brad exchanged startled glances.
“How do you know his callers are foreigners?” asked Brad.
“Dey talks a langwidge I ain’t never heard round dese parts.”
“You were close enough to hear them talk?” asked Kitty.
“Mr. Beeson think I’se sleepin’. Mah sight ain’t so good no mo’, but mah hearin’ keen, an’ I know when dem stranger come ashore.”
“You heard their motorboat, I suppose,” said Brad.
“Naw suh. Dey don’ come in no motorboat. Nothin’ but ole bateau. Whilst dey was up to de house one dark night I went down to de water an’ seen it.”
Kitty’s cheeks were pale, her eyes apprehensive when she met Brad’s troubled glance.
“I hear Mr. Beeson talkin’ ’bout buyin’ dis island. You tell young Massa fer me, Missie, not to sold it. Reckon Mr. Beeson bootleggin’ or somepen. He gwine bring disgrace on dis place.”
Kitty didn’t take time to tell him that the bootlegging of other days was mild to what she now knew Mr. Beeson was doing. But suddenly she lifted her head in alarm. She had caught the sound of a distant motorboat.
“Reckon dat him now! Y’all bettah lef’ out o’ here right now,” warned Uncle Mose.