“Not that pair—other members of the same gang. D. and P. are two of the crew over at the beach cottage who chloroformed me, then tied me up and carted me over here in an open motor sailor.”
“Well, I’ll be tarred and feathered!” Bill switched off his torch. “Here I’ve been following you for over two hours and never knew it was you! Never got a glimpse of your face, of course—took you for a man in that rig! Well, I’ll be jiggered if that isn’t a break!”
“So you were the man I thought I saw in the grass clump?”
“Sure. You led me to the house. I knew the gang had a cottage somewhere along that beach, but I didn’t know which one it was. By the way, I’ve got your Mary Jane tied to a mooring out yonder—Couldn’t take a chance on running in closer. That old tub’s engine has a bark that would wake George Washington.”
Dorothy sprang to her feet. “That’s great! We’ll make for the Mary Jane, Bill, right now. If those men in the car catch us here there’ll be another fight. Dorothy has had all the rough stuff she wants for one night, thank you!”
Bill took her arm.
“O.K. with me,” he returned. “Think you’re well enough to travel?”
“I’m all right. Hanging around this place gives me the jim-jams—let’s go.”
Together they crossed the yard and hurried along the narrow planking of the dock to the dinghy. Bill took the oars and a few minutes later they were safely aboard the motor boat. It began to rain again and the dark, oily water took on a vibrant, pebbly look.
“Come into the cabin,” suggested Dorothy, watching Bill make the painter fast. “We’ll be drier there—and I’ve got about a million questions for you to answer.”