They made their inquiries about the couple of a sailor.
“Yes, there were several young couples among the passengers that left for Hawaii yesterday,” he informed them. “About thirty passengers, all told.”
“But did one of the young couples look like honeymooners?” demanded Dot.
“Can’t say as I noticed. But you can look at the list of passengers in the office. That ought to tell you.”
He led the girls through an open door, where they found the book on the desk with the name of the boat, the “Mona,” and the list. But, as they had expected, neither the name of Bower nor of Sprague occurred.
“If that girl were using her own maiden name, we shouldn’t even know what it was,” remarked Dot, gloomily.
“True,” admitted Linda, thinking how strange it was that once again they were involved in complications with a nameless girl. But, unlike poor little Helen Tower, who had been nameless because of a cruel accident wherein she lost her memory, this girl was deliberately, criminally, nameless.
“Were there any couples in flying costumes?” asked Dot, thinking perhaps that if the Spragues had hiked from the plane, and speed were their object, they wouldn’t have had time to change.
But such a course would have been too obvious, and would have given them away immediately. As she expected, the sailor shook his head to the question.
“Any with hand-luggage?” suggested Linda.