I didn’t even know yet what she looked like. So it couldn’t be that I had fallen for a pretty face—I didn’t even know whether she had one.
I thought of asking Kee that, but decided not to. A strange, vague instinct held me back from mentioning Alma Remsen’s name.
Suddenly he said, “Damn!” in a most explosive way, and not unnaturally I thought he had lost one of those biggest of all big fishes.
But as he began pulling in his empty line and making other evident preparations for bringing our fishing party to an end, I mildly asked for light on the subject.
“Got to go home,” he said, like a sulky child.
“What for?”
“See that red flag in the bungalow window? That means come home at once. Lora only uses it in cases of real importance, so we’ve got to go.”
CHAPTER III
THE TRAGEDY
As we went up the steps and crossed the porch of the Moore bungalow, we saw a man seated in the lounge, talking to Lora.
Both jumped up at our approach, and Lora cried out, “Oh, Kee, Mr. Tracy is dead!”