“Humph! That—er—stogie happens to be a fifty-cent Corona!” snorted Mr. Dixon who was touchy about his smokes.
“Means nothing to me,” replied Bill blandly. “Don’t use ’em myself and—”
“Say, will you please pipe down on cigars—” broke in Dorothy, “and get to the notebook?”
“Oh, what a pun—” groaned Bill, “you certainly—”
“Be still!” ordered his father. “She’s right. Let’s get down to business. Now, here’s the book,” he went on, opening the little volume. “I dried it in our oven and although the writing is blurred, it is still quite legible. As you see, only a few pages have been used, and they show a simple set of flag signals. The red flag means: ‘Meet Steamship.’ The yellow flag stands for ‘A.M.’; the white, ‘P.M.’ Then there are twenty-four flags to designate the hours and half-hours from one to twelve.”
“Is that all?” asked Dorothy, disappointedly.
“Absolutely. The rest of the pages are blank.”
“I remember hearing the men speak of the bosses’ red flag when I was listening outside the cottage,” she said slowly, “and that meant, of course, that Donovan and Charlie were to meet the steamer.”
“Quite. But until we are able to locate the spot where these signals are displayed we won’t accomplish much.”
Bill nodded. “And now that they know we have discovered their method of smuggling, they’ll probably shift their operations from Fire Island Lightship to some other point along the coast.”